


Once Around, Please

by thehappyfangirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, No age difference, Only child Derek, Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehappyfangirl/pseuds/thehappyfangirl
Summary: The Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show is my Super Bowl. I try to watch it every year, and I get pretty fannish over it. I think the idea came into my head when I watched my favorite breed group (Toys); I pictured big tough Derek with a little bitty dog, and within minutes I had a premise.This is my 2014 NaNoWriMo novel, and the first one where I actually reached 50K words! We'll see if all of them make it into the story :) You don't have to know dogs and dog shows to understand this fic, but I have notes at the end of the chapter to help with some of the terms.This is a Sterek story at heart, but the other characters make appearances in their own way.Chapters will be posted biweekly on Thursday or Friday.Enjoy!





	1. Prologue

_"Hello again, and welcome back to the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show! I'm David Frei."_

_"And I'm Mary Carillo, and we'll be bringing you the Cinderella stories and dogged competition that have battled their way through the heat of the summer and bitter cold winters to make their way to Madison Square Garden!"_

_"We have a great night ahead of us here at the Garden, as the Hounds, Toys, Non-Sporting, and Herding Groups take to the ring. Brace yourselves, everyone, it's going to be a fantastic night!"_

_"Now we have a few favorites tonight, don't we, David?"_

_"We do indeed, Mary. First we have 'Hunter', Champion Argent on the Hunt, a gorgeous Belgian Malinois in the Herding Group that's come all the way from California to compete tonight. He's handled by superstar campaigner, 'Stiles' Stilinski, who shot out of the Junior Showmanship cannon and has yet to touch down."_

_"And we have the sentimental favorite, 'Beaker', Champion Hale's Last Beacon, an adorable little Shih Tzu. Here's hoping her tragic tale might have a happy ending here at the Garden."_

_"That's right, Mary. Beaker and her breeder-owner-handler, Derek Hale, lost everyone but each other in a fire over a year ago, and now both of them are back and ready to take on the competition. Both dogs have campaigned hard this year to win Best of Breed here at Westminster, and tonight hope to win their respective Groups."_

_"And we have our fingers crossed for all the four-legged friends here tonight! We'll be back with the National Anthem and the Hound Group after the break."_  


* * *

  
Derek rubbed his eyes as he watched the insurance adjuster walk slowly around the property and wished for the hundredth time that he didn't have to be here, smelling the lingering smoke even a week later. He'd been at a friend's house that night when he'd gotten the call at three thirty in the morning.

_Mr. Hale, I'm so sorry._

He blinked away the memory and the tears and wondered if his parents had died trying to save the dogs. He had no doubt that his mother had. Zoey had been ready to whelp in less than a week and they'd been just about to get the box ready for her in the puppy room, and Honeydew and her puppies... _I'll have to return the deposits. God, the lawyer's going to be earning his fees fighting the insurance company for the loss of future earnings from Zoey's and Honey's litter and at least a few generations after that._

One weekend. He'd been holding down the fort for three weeks while his parents campaigned with Kermit and Fozzie and he'd been so happy to get away from the yapping and the puppy messes and keeping those show coats from collecting burrs and foxtails and--

"Mr. Hale?"

Derek dragged himself back to the present as the adjuster approached with his clipboard. "Okay, I have what I need here. If you'll sign here to acknowledge that I was here to evaluate the property and damages, I'll take my findings back to the office. We'll be in touch with your attorney to discuss an amount, as well as settle the policies your parents took out on your dogs." He offered his hand; Derek didn't take it. "Once again, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." With a last look at what had been his home, Derek turned and headed for his car. The damned lawyer could come back here if a presence was needed, but he never wanted to see the place again.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he frowned at the Caller ID. _Deaton - Vet._ He almost let it go to voice mail; the last thing he wanted to go over was any outstanding balance they might owe for Zoey's exams or for Honey's pups' first round of inoculations, but the sooner he dealt with it, the better.

"Hello."

"Derek." Dr. Deaton's voice was always so gentle. "I'm sorry for your loss, and I know that you're probably dealing with a lot right now."

"I really am. Did you need me? Do we still have a balance with you?"

"Actually, if you have some time now, I'd like you to come down to the office to talk about it. I'd rather deal with this sooner than later."

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his teeth until he heard them creak, but sighed. What else did he really have on his plate today? It’s not like he was on puppy watch for Zoey, or had to give Honey her special medicated food, or help his parents pack the RV for another week on the road--

 _Enough. Get it over with_. "Yeah. I'll be there in half an hour."

It was closer to an hour when he finally pulled up to the office, noting with relief that only Deaton's car was in the parking lot. He was not up for dealing with families and their pets. The town was small enough that the recognition he faced around Beacon Hills was more draining than he ever thought it would be.

Deaton was waiting for him when he reached the door, and nodded towards his office in the back. Derek took a seat and sighed when Deaton closed the door behind him.

"Derek--"

"Doctor, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to just write you a check for whatever we still owe. I've…" He shook his head. "I've just had enough of sympathy this week."

Deaton shook his head. "There's no balance to settle. Just a last bit of business that you might have forgotten in all of the goings-on." He continued when Derek frowned. "Just before your parents came home, one of Honey's puppies became ill, and you brought her here for fluids and treatment."

Derek lifted his chin with the memory, a tiny ball of fluff in his coat, burning too hot even for a puppy, and fading fast. "Right. We weren't even expecting her. Honey was only supposed to have two." He had forgotten her, and now she was gone too. "I'm sorry. I'll pay for the…disposal. And for any treatment that--"

He blinked as Deaton reached under his desk, and he heard the distinctive _squee-squeek_ of a crate door. A moment later, he hurriedly accepted the sleepy, squirming ball of fluff that Deaton handed him.

"Actually, she pulled through just fine. She'd picked up a nasty case of coccidia, but she's all clear now. She's even had her first round of shots." Deaton smiled. "We took care of her while you were dealing with the arrangements, but I thought it was time you two were together again."

He looked at her as she licked and nibbled at his fingers, already prepared to hand her back over and tell Deaton to find her a home, he didn't want any part of it anymore. The longer he held her, though, and the longer he felt Deaton's eyes on them, he knew that this was the last bit of his family they both had left. Also, even as a bumbling pup, he couldn't turn off what he'd learned during his Junior Showmanship days and what he'd learned by watching from the grooming table and at ringside. He could see her potential: the white blaze on her forehead, the white tip on her wagging tail, and her bright little eyes that didn't know it was just the two of them against the world.

She reared up, her little paws on his chest, and meeped at him.

He stroked his thumb between her eyes and smiled for the first time in over a week. "Beaker." He could come up with her kennel name later. "Thank you." He wasn't sure if he was thanking the puppy or Deaton, but he looked up at the latter and nodded to him.

Deaton smiled at them both. "I'm glad I could bring you together."

Beaker promptly peed in his lap.

 

* * *

 

"STILINSKI!"

Stiles looked up, steel comb in hand, and saw the familiar wild eyes and hair of his latest employer charging through the grooming area towards them. Chuckles didn't bat an eye, his plumed tail waving slowly as he looked up at his owner.

"Sir?"

Bob Finstock grinned wide enough to remind Stiles disconcertingly of the Joker. "We've got a fighting chance! God's gift to toys won't be a problem for us anymore."

"Fozzie's not here? I thought I saw him on the premium list." Everyone knew who Finstock meant; the Hale Shih Tzus walked into shows and walked out with ribbons, and not even the A-est of the A games seemed to make a difference to the judges.

"Not anymore. The place burned to the ground last week, and Kermit and Fozzie are history!" Finstock said to his dog, and ruffled the Cavalier's ears. "That means you're gonna get the big blue ribbon today, aren't you, Champ? Who's my little Best In Show?"

Stiles blinked. "Wait, they're _dead_?" He recalled the last time he saw Fozzie. He'd been sitting in his Best in Show cup with Talia Hale posing him for the photographers.

"As doornails. Hales too. This our chance, Stilinski! I want to see Chuckles at his best out there, you got me?" Finstock's eyes were only on his dog. Chuckles' eyes were on the bag of bait on Stiles' hip.

"Jesus, the Hales are dead too?" Stiles dropped the comb, and Chuckles flopped down on the grooming table with a sigh. "What about Derek?" If the fire happened while the Hales were on the road, there was a better than decent chance that Derek had been at the house. He dug in his pocket for his phone and started a quick search for news of the fire.

"Hey, eyes front, mister! Your job is to worry about my dog, not about the competition. I picked you over Whittemore because I knew you were the best." He turned as the announcer called for the Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. "Now get out there and win."

Stiles looked at him, incredulous, and gathered Chuckles under his arm. He smiled at Finstock as he leaned in to murmur. "You picked me because Chuckles carries his tail so gay that he might as well be a Husky, but I'm the only one that can calm him enough to keep it low when I gait him. I'd get to ringside and watch the last time you see Chuckles win anything but a cuteness competition at your local PetsMart."

He forced the Hale fire to the back of his mind and focused on giving Chuckles his full attention. It wasn't his fault that his owner was a giant douche, after all.

Thankfully, Chuckles kept his tail low during his gait, and Stiles could have cheered for the way he almost lazily stacked himself for the judge to win Best of Breed. He got extra liver treats for winning Best of Group, but even Finstock knew that he didn't have a chance for Best in Show with the Doberman bitch leading the Working Group. Still, it was enough for Chuckles to get his purple Winners ribbon, even when Stiles barely noticed the handshakes and pats on the back. He passed the dog back to Finstock and walked out of the ring, quickly searching on his phone for news of the Hale fire and sagging with relief learning that Derek had survived the blaze.

He wanted to call Derek right away, but stopped himself with his thumb on SEND. He didn't even know if Derek would want to hear from anyone right now, likely sick of the sympathetic stares and soft pats on his shoulder, fridge piled high with casseroles from well-meaning mourners. He tongued at the smooth crown that he'd earned from a fistfight after his mother died; he knew angry grief. Still, he and his father had each other. Derek didn't even have the dogs to keep him busy.

He pocketed the phone and sighed as he packed up his grooming table. He'd text him later, and make an effort to find him when he was back in California. He'd call his dad tonight and get the details. For now, at least, he needed another handling gig. He'd put the word out tomorrow that he was available again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Junior Showmanship (from Wikipedia): also called Junior Handling, is a sport for young people (called "Juniors") in which they exhibit their dog handling skills in an event similar to a conformation dog show. Unlike a conformation show, it is the young handlers who are judged, not their dogs.
> 
> Gay tail: Tail carried high above the line of the back, against the breed standard.
> 
> Gait: When the handler walks the dog away from the judge and back again, so the judge can evaluate the dog's movement to see how well it meets the breed standard.


	2. Settling in and Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek settles in. Stiles reaches out.

Derek slid the door open and surveyed the large, empty loft with a sigh. It was going to be a lot of work. The floor-to-ceiling windows were just not-dirty enough to show him that floors needed washing and sweeping before he took off his shoes, and he needed ALL the furniture.

For now, at least, the space was his. There was more than enough room for Beaker to play if he couldn't take her outside, and if anyone asked, that would be his reason for choosing this place over the others he'd been shown.

_There's a sprinkler system if there's ever a--_

_I'll take it._

He shut the door and dropped his wallet and keys on the floor, already arranging the space in his mind. He'd put a couch over _there_ , the bed would go upstairs in the sleeping loft (and wouldn't that be an adventure getting a bed up those spiral stairs?) and what the fuck did it even matter anymore?

He slid down the wall to sit next to his keys, pushing the heels of his hands to his eyes. _Maybe I'd be more excited about this if it wasn't a fucking reminder that this and a car and a puppy are all I have instead of my family._ He rubbed at his arm where, even a month later, he could still feel the well-meaning pats from the memorial service. _God, what am I doing? What am I going to do? I have a puppy and the clothes on my back and my father's car and what the fuck am I supposed to do now?_

He could handle this. He _had_ to handle this.

By nightfall he'd handled some of it, at least. The floors were swept, the windows cleaned, he'd purchased disposable kitchenware, and leaned the new mattress against the wall as he wrestled with bed frame assembly. The tools were from Deaton, as were Beaker's initial supplies, and he glanced over to make sure she was still gnawing contentedly at her rubber bone in her crate. Once he was done with the bed, he'd take her out for a potty run and then let her explore the place a little. He'd taken care of the silence too; music streamed tinnily from his new computer's speakers, and he thanked his neighbors for giving him their wifi password until he could get his own internet access.

It was a few hours before Beaker got her potty run, but she got to wander while he tipped the mattress carefully onto the frame. He sat down just as carefully and, when the whole frame didn't collapse, he laid back on the bed with more confidence. _At least I have somewhere comfortable to sleep. The rest can--_

The phone rang, and he frowned and headed for the stairs, scooping Beaker up because the spiral stairs were still too much for her. He snagged the phone from the kitchen counter. _Unknown Number._ "Hello?"

"Derek?"

He blinked, recognizing the voice even after being out of the dog show circuit for so long. "Stiles?"

"Yeah, hey." There was a pause long enough to be awkward. "Yeah. I just wanted to see how you were hanging in. I heard about--"

"I'm doing all right." He scrubbed his hand through his hair and sat on the floor to let Beaker back down. "Just getting settled into my new place. How are _you_ , man? I heard you were pro handling now?" In the past month, he'd raised changing the subject away from the fire to an art form.

If Stiles noticed, he didn't say anything about it. "Yeah, I'm doing all right. I was working with Finstock's Cavaliers, and I'm kind of between jobs right now."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeeeah-so-listen." Stiles spoke so quickly that it sounded like one word. "I'm gonna be in town in a week or so. Tell me where you're at and I'll come see you. I can bring a pizza and help you put together any furniture that's still flatpacked."

Derek looked around at his nearly empty living room again as Beaker squirmed in the crook of his elbow. If anything was going to get him settled in, it would be getting ready for a guest. _I can get a couch and TV by then at least._ "Sure. I'll text you the address."

"Cool."

He could practically hear the smile in Stiles' voice, and found himself missing him, even through another long pause. "Still there?"

"Yeah! Sorry, that...well, that was kind of all I'd really rehearsed in my head, so, ah." He sighed. "I'm sorry I missed the funeral, Derek."

Derek closed his eyes and sat down, letting Beaker wriggle free and scamper after her ball. "It's okay. I didn't really expect anyone to be able to make it."

"I'm still sorry. You were there for me when Mom died, and I'm driving out from Atlanta as soon as I hang up here. There are a couple of shows in San Francisco where I can maybe find work, and I haven't been out west in months."

Derek smiled. "Are coming in your Jeep? Is that thing still running?"

"Roscoe will keep running as long as I have a tool box in the back seat. I'll see you in a week or so? With pizza."

"Pizza, please. I'm so sick of sympathy casseroles." He smiled a little wider, surprised as the thought of seeing him again warmed him. "Thanks for checking in, Stiles. Drive safe, okay?"

"You got it. Take it easy!"

He looked over at Beaker, who had settled to chew her rubber bone. "We're getting company, baby! What do you think? Should we get a couch?" He grinned as she bounced over to him and ruffled her puppy fluff. "Yes we should!"

* * *

Stiles snapped a picture of the world's largest ball of twine and sent it to Derek. _Hopped off I-80 just to get a pic for you. See you in a few days._ With a spine-crackling stretch and a few more gulps of his Monster, he got back on the road.

Derek Hale. He hadn't seen him in three years, since the summer before they both turned eighteen and Derek had sworn he was going to college and getting out of the dog world. They'd been thick as thieves back then; the Junior Showmanship world was almost as insular as the adult contingent, and if you saw Derek at a show, chances were that Stiles wasn't far behind.

His dad had called him from his hotel in North Carolina, where he was set to judge a Bloodhound Specialty show. _Bob Finstock called me a week ago, said you'd quit on him. Everything okay, son?_

_Finstock was an asshole who doesn't deserve a sweetheart like Chuckles. He's lucky I didn't grab the dog when I left._

He'd understood when he told him he was going to see Derek. _Let me know if you need anything, and give him my best, okay?_

He turned on the radio as the flat, boring landscape slid by, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the music. He found that yes, it was possible to be excited to see Derek again and still fight the drowsiness of the drive, and tried to pour some of that excitement into staying awake.

All the way through high school, he and the Junior Handlers had looked forward more to the summers than they ever did for school. Well, at least _he'd_ looked forward to it. It was like their secret summer club, full of dogs and a world where they could be part of what the adults did, but could have their own gatherings at night when the adults just wanted to wind down.

He smiled when he remembered some of those nights and all of the first times they'd shared. Stiles, Scott, Derek, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, and Danny...it only took one secret smile when they were together again and it was like nobody else mattered and it was as if they'd only seen each other yesterday.

After his Mom died, those were the people he'd wanted around him, and it was the only time he could relax and smile again.

As they'd gotten older, more often than not it was like nobody else mattered _but_ Derek, and after that last summer...well.

They'd both changed in three years. Derek had gone to college, and Stiles had been offered a considerable amount of money to handle dogs for a prominent breeder. At first he'd been excited to be a part of the show world year-round instead of just those magical summers and winter weekends. That had changed quickly too.

He'd needed the break even before he'd heard about the fire. Maybe it would be good for both of them to see each other again.

_Maybe you can put your stupid crush away long enough to be the friend he needs instead of being angry for leaving him to the wolves._

He shook his head out of his thoughts and back to the road as Kansas continued to roll by.

* * *

_"_ _All right, kids. Drink up!" Stiles set the six-pack of Rolling Rock down in the center of the bed._

_Erica laughed as all of them grabbed for a bottle . "Where did you get these?"_

_"I may or may not have paid a premium for one of the stewards to buy it for me--hey! There isn't enough for the all of us to have their own."_

_"It's okay," Derek said as Jackson immediately pulled his bottle out of anyone's reach. "My parents will be able to smell it on me if I drink a whole one. I swear they've trained the dogs to sniff it out. I can have some of yours." He grinned at Stiles. "You know what a lightweight you are anyway."_

_Danny grinned with him. "Didn't you spend the entire time in front of the judge pleading for him to stop touching the dog so loud?"_

_Stiles felt his ears heat up as the others laughed. "That was one time. Now we drink after exhibiting and everyone wins."_

_"This stuff is pretty much water anyway," Jackson said. "You couldn't have gotten something better?"_

_"Well, next time you can go scouting for someone to buy your precious heifer beer."_

_"Hefeweizen," Jackson corrected him, and rocked in place when Erica shoved him. "Hey."_

_Stiles passed Derek his bottle after taking the first swig himself. "Why do we invite you to these things again?"_

_Jackson arched his neck and smiled. "My good looks. And I'm the only one who doesn't have to share a hotel room with my parents and the dogs."_

_Scott and Boyd rolled their eyes and laughed. "Jackson references his family's money or how hot he is. Everyone drink."_

_Erica spoke up after they'd all taken their requisite swigs. "In the interest of getting the ball rolling away from Jackson's looks and money, did anyone hear what happened to Judge Mars?" Erica smiled as she got everyone's attention. "The Kanes posted all over the message boards about favoritism after their Welsh Terrier didn't win Best in Show at the national specialty in April. They raised a stink with the AKC and now he's under review."_

_"Wow," Derek said, taking one pull from the bottle and grimacing before passing it back to Stiles. "Did your dad say anything, Stiles?" "_

_He knows Keith, but he never said anything to me. That sucks, though, especially because the Kanes are assholes, and haven't lived down the rumor about getting their best stud's bite fixed through surgery. Hope their pups enjoy the undershot mouth." He took his own drink and wiped his lips on his sleeve. "What I did hear about was the McGregor's dog Morgan. You know, the Bouvier? They lost a whole breeding season with her because a local stray found her in their backyard one day."_

_"No!" Scott's eyes went wide. "They said she needed a break when I asked them how Morgan was doing!" "_

_Nope. Bouvier Lab/Pit mixes all over the place. I think she had eleven pups." Stiles laughed and they all drank again._

_"Hey, has anyone seen this kid Matt before?" Erica asked. "The one that was letting his Rottie snap at my Brodie?" Boyd shook his head. "First time I've seen him, and then he was taking pictures of everyone later."_

_"He said it was for some kind of blog," Danny added. "I got the web address. He said the pictures would be up tomorrow."_

_"That a little blush there, Danno?" Jackson grinned at him. "God, you're hopeless."_

_"Shut up." But Danny didn't stop blushing. "I'm not the one hoping Lydia Martin'll notice his car, or how he named his dog after a designer bag just like she does."_

_"Is that why you have a Chinese Crested when your parents show Afghans?" Scott laughed. "Me and Stiles figured you couldn't show a dog that was prettier than you."_

_Stiles smiled as Derek laughed, and he leaned back against his shoulder, feigning a bit more tipsy-ness than he felt. "All right. We've been balls deep in dogs all day."_

_"Hey!"_

_"Sorry, Erica. But I'm done talking dogs. Let's see what we can charge to the Whittemore's pay-per-view."_

 

* * *

 

Stiles gulped the last few swallows of his Monster and pushed the gas pedal a little harder. That summer had been the best and the worst of his high school life, and the sooner he got to California, the sooner he could figure out where he was going after telling Finstock to stick it.

He smiled, though, as he remembered a dark hotel room, the gang of them crowded around the TV, and the warmth of Derek's hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bite: The way a dog's teeth meet when their mouth is closed - all breed standards are specific with this.
> 
> Undershot mouth: When the lower teeth stick out farther than the upper teeth, as with Bulldogs, Boxers, Pugs, and other brachycephalic (smoosh-faced) breeds. Considered a fault in most other breed standards.


	3. Stiles Arrives and Catching Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles arrives. Conversation, feelings, and memories ensue.

Derek tossed the squeaky bee for Beaker and smiled as she scrambled after it, her little claws scrabbling on the smooth floors.  "C'mere, sweetie! Bring it on back!" He let her tug and growl when she brought the toy back. "Fuzzy and fierce, aren't you? Aren't you?"  He ruffled her fluffy coat, pulling her into his lap as she set to chewing squeakily at the bee.  "Good girl. Let's comb you out, okay?"  He talked to her softly as he combed through her puppy fluff, letting her enjoy the toy. "That's right, you get something good and special when you get groomed, good girl."

Getting puppies used to being handled and groomed was reflexive. He'd been bathing dogs since he was old enough to reach over the sides of the bathtub, and Beaker was extremely mellow even as he checked her paws and ears. "Such a pretty sweet girl."

As he crooned at her, he realized that talking to her was pretty much the only time he talked to _anyone_ except the pizza place when they took his order. "At least we have a couch now, and a TV, so we're not complete hobo shut-ins, right?" Beaker grumbled and nibbled at his fingers, and he stopped grooming and just petted her for a while, her soft puppy coat silky under his hand.  He looked around at the apartment and once again tried to consider his options.

He'd received an extremely generous settlement from the insurance on the house and on the dogs. He'd received the benefits of his parents' life insurance policies. He had the money to pay for the rest of his schooling, when he was ready to go back after his hardship withdrawal.

God, he didn't even want to think about school. The sympathy there as he'd packed up his dorm room had been even more prickly than back home.  Only two people had really known him well enough that their hugs were genuine and welcomed, and he missed them enough to send the occasional e-mail as he was getting settled. But going back? Not even on the radar right now.

_And it's not as if the dorm would take pets._

The most he could manage at the moment was getting the sparse furniture for the loft and keeping them both fed and fit for public consumption when necessary. Any further contemplation of _you can't just do nothing forever!_ and he felt a squeezing in his stomach and his hands started to shake, so...

His phone rang before he took that thought any further; he smiled at the caller ID and thumbed the screen. "Hey Stiles. How's life on the open road?"

"Dude, you didn't tell me you lived at the spooky warehouse building next to the abandoned mall. Do you even have running water?"

"You made it!" Derek laughed and scooped Beaker up on his way to the door. "I'll be right down."

He put Beaker's harness on in the elevator and gave her what he hoped was a stern look. "It's been three years since I've seen him, baby. Don't greet him like you did me, okay?"

Derek saw Stiles' beat-up Jeep and heard him shuffling things around in the back. When he came around, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder…

_Wow._

He'd gotten taller; the gangly teen he remembered had grown into his shoulders, and arms. His eyes were the same warm brown, though, and crinkled with the half-smile on his face. He didn't say anything right away as he tried to assimilate this Stiles with the one he remembered. Stiles froze when he saw him too and, by the way his gaze paused on his eyes-chest-arms-legs-eyes, he was doing the same mental inventory.

When Stiles caught sight of Beaker, though, he dropped the bag and his excited smile brought Derek right back to memories of summer nights and mischief.

_Among other things._

"You got a puppy! Look how cute she is! When did you get her? C'mere, sweetie! What's her name?"

Derek dropped the leash as Beaker ran to him, smiling as Stiles dropped to the ground and gathered her into his lap. "That's Beaker.  She's one of Honeydew's litter. She was at the vet's that night."

"Aren't you precious? Such a sweet girl."  Stiles looked up at him as Beaker licked his chin. "Just you and him against the world, huh baby?"  He scooped her gently off his lap and stood, letting her stay on the ground.

They were eye to eye now; Derek had been the taller one three years ago. "Thanks for coming. It's good to see you." Derek prepared for the awkwardness, the pained looks and saccharin platitudes that made him want to just _shake_ people.

That made the squeezing hug even more surprising, and he stiffened at first until he heard what Stiles was saying.

"It sucks, man. It hurts and it sucks and I'm sorry, and that's all I'll say about it until you want to say more. Sound good?"

Derek returned the hug with a softer squeeze and closed his eyes, nodding. "That sounds good, yeah." He cleared his throat, taking in the honest sympathy and raw comfort that nobody could have offered at the funeral. Stiles knew what it was like from this side of loss, knew the pain and needing something but nothing was enough to bring them back again. Stiles had been ten years old; he didn't think being twenty made it any easier to handle, and was glad that Stiles had made the trip to come see him. "Thanks." He cleared his throat again before he started crying and made a fool of himself in the parking lot

Stiles drew back when the moment eased, and Derek looked at him, the memories coming back in rapid-fire flashes of bare skin and panted breaths until, despite the grief still thick in his throat, he was almost ready to lean back in--

"I think your dog just peed on my shoe."

"What?" Derek blinked out of the moment and looked down. "Oh, _shit_. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, she's…"  He tugged her away from his sneaker,  his face and neck hot. "She likes shoes a _lot_ and I can throw those in the wash."  He grabbed Stiles' bag before she started sniffing at it too intently, the previous intimacy so over that he barely remembered it happening. "Come on."

"I'll carry Little Miss Beaker before she gets any more ideas."  Derek turned and smiled to see her tucked in the crook of Stiles' arm. "It's good to see you again, man." Then, before things could get sympathy-awkward again. "So do you have a Playstation up there, or are you living like a complete monk? Tell me I have a bed and you're not just squatting."

Derek bumped him with his shoulder and opened the elevator for them both. "Jerk. I'll tell the roaches you're friendly. As long as we share the pizza with them, they'll leave us alone."

He smiled when he rolled open the door, though, and Stiles gaped at the sheer space that greeted them both.  "I take it all back. Look at all the windows! And holy shit, we could throw a football around in this place. What's the catch?" Stiles turned to him with his own grin. "Is it haunted? Does a woman in white wander the place all night and that's why the mall had to close?"

"Oh my god, you still don't know when to shut up."  Derek set his bag on the low table just inside the door so Beaker wouldn't go exploring.  "Do you still like meat-lovers pizza? I have Dr. Pepper, water, and Bud in the fridge."

"I also like Buffalo wings and garlic knots, if you're ordering. I'll get us a couple of sodas." Stiles set Beaker down and took off her harness, and she dove headlong for her squeaky bee. "She's adorable. She looks just like Fozzie."

Derek glanced down at her; he hadn't noticed it at the time, but when he really looked, he could see similarities in coat color. "She's so mellow when she's brushed, though. Fozzie fights for at least five minutes when you get the comb out--"

He stopped, but didn't bother to correct it to past tense. He'd be stumbling over that for a while, best to own it and move on. "Wings and garlic knots, right? Let me put the order in. Make yourself at home."  He headed for the stairs to his sleeping loft. "And throw those shoes in the wash."

He listened to Stiles rustling around downstairs after he hung up with the pizza place. He sat down on the bed and grabbed for his sweat pants so he could change out of his jeans, needing the few extra minutes as Stiles tossed the squeaky bee for Beaker.

Three years. Three years of feeling like college was a cheap substitute for what he'd thought he'd wanted. He'd wanted out of the dog world before it sucked him in for life, but it meant leaving the best friends he'd ever had. He remembered the way Stiles had looked at him when he'd told him he'd been accepted to the University of Northern California, and the things they'd said to hurt each other so leaving would feel better than staying.

But he also remembered the warmth of Stiles' fingers laced with his, the way the shadows on his face in the dim light of his parents' van, and the way his eyes gleamed when he'd shut the flashlight off.

"Derek! Where do you keep her liver treats? She's being too cute to not be rewarded for it."

Derek smiled and pushed to his feet.  Stiles was here when most everybody else had sent cards or flowers, and that was what mattered now, and he couldn't stay upstairs forever.  "The stuff on top of the fridge is not for people."

He laughed at the gagging noise he heard and padded down the stairs.  Tonight would be all right.

The food arrived just as he threw Stiles' sneakers in the dryer. He sat on the floor in front of the small coffee table so Stiles could sit on the couch while they ate. "You've been driving all day. You take the comfy chair. Beaker can sit with me."

Beaker trotted over at the sound of her name and hopped up on the couch instead to curl up next to Stiles' thigh. Derek pointed at Stiles as he petted her. "You're not allowed to reward her disloyalty."

"But Derek, look at her. She's suffering from a serious pepperoni deficiency." Stiles' puppy eyes were almost as effective as Beaker's.

"We eat first, and only one piece of it for her. Remember when we fed Coach those pupperoni treats before he took him into the ring?"

"Oh my god!" Stiles barked out a laugh.  "He got so gassy while Jackson had him on the examination table. Jackson's _face_. The judge--!"  He shook his head as Derek plated wings and a couple slices of pizza for both of them. "Comedy gold. Also, the fact that he named that dog Coach was hilarious."

Derek arched his neck with his best Jackson huff. "What? It's a designer, isn't it? Shut up."

Stiles snorted again, a spit-take narrowly avoided. "Lydia never noticed either. She just thought it was a jock thing."

Derek chuckled and they both dug in.  He felt comfortable in the silence despite how long it had been since they'd really talked about the show world. Stiles seemed comfortable as well, so he dared the question when they both paused between bites.  "Do you still see some of the gang? Did they stick around?"

Stiles nodded. "Danny's breeding Leonbergers now. Scott's going to vet school and he stewards or works the vet tent when he can get away from the books. Jackson's still around. He started handling professionally like I did. He handles for the Martins now."  He smiled. "Erica stuck it out for another year after you left and then her and Boyd ran away together. Last I saw them was last year, and they were mugging it up in the benching area at Westminster like they were tourists."

Derek smiled. "I had a feeling about them."

Stiles nudged his knee with his toes as he fed Beaker the promised pepperoni. "Everyone knew they were going to end up together somehow."

"It's still good to hear." Derek remembered how they always smiled at each other, and he smiled himself to know that they were happy.

Stiles nudged him again. "What about you, man? Spill. How's NorCal treating you? What's your major?"

"Math, with a physics minor."  He frowned as Stiles made a face. "What? I'm good at it. Dad was an architect when he wasn't showing the dogs with Mom. I was going to be a structural engineer." 

"Math, though…" Stiles shuddered and stuffed a garlic knot into his mouth. "Do you like it? You said 'was' and all."

Derek shrugged. "I did like it. It was hard, but it felt…"  He paused, memories from that night flooding back again, and couldn't meet his eyes. "I'd wanted something different."

_I want to do something real, and I sure as hell can't do that when I'm some nameless guy showing off a stupid dog so someone else can maybe write it down in a book that won't mean shit in a couple years!_

_Fuck you, Derek. I hope you find the life you want and hate it._

This time the silence wasn't comforting at all.  Beaker sighed with a little whine and lay her head on Stiles' thigh.

"And now?"  Stiles scratched gently behind Beaker's ears, and when Derek looked back up at him he knew they were both remembering the same night.

"Now I don't know. It's a lot to think about."  None of which he really wanted to think about, but he didn't want that memory to hurt between them anymore.  "I'm sorry. For the things I said back when--"

"Water. Bridge. Under."  Stiles slid one hand under his other arm to illustrate. "Don't even worry."

Derek smiled, glad for the olive branch despite neither of them having forgotten the awful things they'd said, and slid another slice of pizza onto his plate.  "College was a lot of work. Didn't leave me time for much else."

"Besides, who has the time of day for a _math_ major?" Stiles threw a crumpled up napkin at him, and things were easy again.  "I bet I'd find a pair of those black-rimmed glasses you refused to wear in the ring if I went looking for your jacket. You were a closet nerd back in the day."

Derek shook his head despite the warmth in his ears. "Lies. All lies."

"Lies you tell yourself. Who were the first X-Men?"

The answer was embarrassingly reflexive. "Cyclops, Jean Grey, Iceman, Angel, and Beast. Everyone knows that anymore."

"Ha. Your red ears tell a different story, nerd. You just happen to look like a golden god. You must have been hitting the gym _hard_ between tests." 

Derek felt his ears get even hotter. "There wasn't a lot else to do. I didn't do sports in high school because of the dog shows, and I didn't want to pledge a fraternity, so I could either study until my brains fell out, or work out."

"Did you have any friends?"  Stiles looked around the place again. "I don't see any pictures of road trips or college hijinks…"

"I had a few."  He tried to smile again. "Sadly, all photographic evidence of my academic escapades were lost to posterity."

"Right. Right. Sorry."

"Don't even worry," he mimicked around another bite of pizza. "Not a whole lot to tell anyway." He came back to the catching up. "So Jackson's actually handling for the Martins?"

"Yeah, man, who knew? Lydia still doesn't, but he still has Coach with him at every show I've seen him. He actually likes the little guy."

Derek chuckled. "Well, at least he has someone who likes him back." He groaned as he rocked to his feet, grabbing the empty pizza box and their empty sodas. "You want another? Or a beer?"

"Beer sounds good now that I'm not ready to eat your only table."  Stiles followed him to the kitchen to help box up the last of the wings. Beaker followed to snuffle up the dropped bits of food.  "Want me to run her out while you get things sorted?"

"Sure, thanks."  He grinned at him. "Just don't snapchat me a picture of whatever she does out there."

"I would never--"

"You sent me a picture of that gas station bathroom."

"You wouldn't have believed my description, and be glad snapchat doesn't have smell-o-vision."  Stiles scooped Beaker up. "Back in a bit!"

Derek dropped the paper plates in the trash and put the soda cans in with the recycling.  He gave the beer a long look and chose another soda for himself; tonight wasn't the night for him to be drunk.  The air may have cleared a bit between them, but he didn't know how much of that was real or how much of that was Stiles letting things go because of the new circumstances.

There were just too many things still to say. Maybe they'd say some of it while Stiles was still here.

He heard the door roll open and the happy scrabble of claws just before her soft weight skidded against his calf. "Did you do your business baby? Sure you did!"  He picked her up and kissed her head, dodging eager licks and snuffles as she wriggled in his arm.

"She's got her own little routine out there. There must be a couple of cats leaving pee-mail around and she had to check 'em all."  Stiles bumped them both away from the kitchen sink and washed his hands.

Derek smiled down at her. "She's a little different than the Wolfhounds you used to handle. I still remember you and Clancy from back when he was taller than you.  How did you get from them to Cavaliers?"

"Actually I went from Wolfhounds to Ibizans for a year, and then a couple of Mini Bull Terriers for a year and a half for the Whitmores...no relation."  He smiled at something but didn't elaborate. "And then Finstock hired me to work with Chuckles."

The name rang a bell. "Finstock...he was the guy with the wild hair and the bug eyes, wasn't he? My folks said that he practically stomped his feet and complained to the judges if his dog was up against Kermit or Fozzie in all-breed shows."

Stiles snorted, the smile fading quickly. "Yeah, he wasn't really a fan, but I don't think we'll be seeing much of Chuckles unless he staples his tail down."  He looked at the bottle of beer on the counter and then at his watch. "You know what? I drove across a state or two to get here today. I think I'm gonna crash if that's okay?"

As if on cue, the dryer buzzed.  "And that'll be your shoes, and I have a set of clean sheets for you. I'll grab them, and the couch folds out if you want to get it set up?"

Derek came back with the sheets just as Stiles was pulling his pillow from his bag. "That's right, I forgot about your pillow."

"Never leave home without it." He tossed it on the bed and helped Derek put the sheets down.

"There's a blanket across the top there if you get chilly, there's a half-bath just off the kitchen area if you need to go at night, and the shower is upstairs."  Derek smiled.  "I have to block off the top of the stairs so Beaker doesn't fall, so if you wake up before me try not to hurt yourself if you want a shower."

"Thanks for the heads-up. I'll probably sleep like a log once I lie down."

Derek nodded and the setup and gathered Beaker up in his arm. "I guess that's good night, then."

Neither of them moved to either lie down or turn for the stairs. Finally, Stiles reached over to give Beaker a good-night kiss. "Thanks for coming, Stiles."

Stiles smiled at the puppy, then up at him. "I've been there. If I didn't come, you'd probably only have a bed and Beaker's crate in here."

Derek chuckled. "You're not wrong. I'll see you in the morning."  The ice might have been broken, but the crap in the air hadn't cleared as much as they thought. Maybe the morning would be better.


	4. Clearing the Air, Muddying the Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, more catching up and feelings coming to the surface.

The smell of fresh coffee woke him the next morning. Derek stretched and, when Beaker didn't come up to kiss his chin, he woke ALL THE WAY up and sat up quickly. He saw the gate at the top of the stairs off to the side and sighed when he heard Stiles moving around downstairs. He was surprised that he hadn't woken up when Beaker did. Usually he slept lightly to be alert for when she needed to go potty (which was thankfully getting later each morning).

_That was before you had your sort-of ex show up at your place to catch up._

Derek shifted and stood, grabbed the sleep pants and took them to the bathroom. After his morning business and a quick swish of mouthwash he went downstairs, smiling as he saw Stiles throwing a soft foam ball that didn't make a noise when it bounced for Beaker.

"Thanks for taking her out this morning. She didn't get you up too early, did she?"  He leaned down and scooped Beaker up when she leaped at his shins. "Did you? Did you wake Stiles up?"

"She wasn't too bad." Stiles motioned to the kitchen area where an empty coffee mug waited next to the half-full coffee pot. "I didn't know how you took it or I would have gone full housewife."

Derek smiled and set Beaker down. "Thanks, I got it. Did you sleep okay?" He grabbed the mug and poured his cup. "You had your pillow, and apparently I didn't hear anything after I dropped off."

"I slept all right. The extra space kind of weirded me a little." Stiles tossed the ball for Beaker again. "I'm used to hotel rooms. I kept waking up expecting housekeeping to knock."

Derek chuckled and sipped his coffee. "I don't have enough furniture to warrant a housekeeper." He glanced in the fridge as he put the creamer back. "You want breakfast? I got eggs and some cheese, we have leftover pizza and wings, or I know a diner that has great breakfast."

Stiles' eyes went wide at the last option. "Oh my god, yes. I've been living on compli-crap-tary hotel breakfasts or leftover pizza and the _dog_ eating better than me some days. I'm gonna get dressed right now. You can have coffee at the restaurant."

Derek smiled and held up his mug. "But I just put cream--"

"Get dressed!"

Beaker was a little grouchy at being left behind, but settled into her crate with her tiny Kong stuffed with kibble before Derek even shut the door. "She's getting better about her kennel, even when she sleeps on the bed."

"Softie."

"Hey, it gets chilly at night. She could catch a cold."

Stiles snorted. "Right." Then he gaped as they crossed the parking lot. "No way. This one's yours?"

Derek unlocked the doors of the black Camaro. "Dad had his 'fun wheels' when they were home. It was in the shop that night." He got in before Stiles could say anything, and the drive to the diner passed in silence

Well, almost silence.

"This car is suffering from a lack of fuzzy dice," Stiles said as they pulled into the diner.

"Do it and I'll get a set of Truck Nutz for your Jeep."

"So no dice, then?"

Derek nursed a cup of coffee while they waited for their food. Stiles looked around, knee bouncing and fingers drumming lightly on the table.

"I had so much fun stopping at places like this on the way here. I was cruising Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives for good places. When I'm campaigning, I have to haul ass from one show to another that I don't get to stop."

Derek smiled. "Anything near the largest ball of twine, or was that a special trip?"

"Totally a special trip. I was almost going cross-country. I had to stop there to continue the trend."

"Trend?"

"Yeah. See, I have this theory that the only reason some of these places even exist is because people tell other people about it. I mean think about it." He spread his hands. "If people stop talking about the world's largest ball of twine, who's going to make special trips to go see it?"

Derek laughed. "If a ball of twine exists and nobody's around to Snapchat it, does it cease to be? How many cups of coffee did you have before I woke up?"

Stiles poked his finger at him. "Wait'll I get all that maple syrup in me.  I got a million of 'em, and you've missed them all."

"Let's just try to get out by lunch rush, okay?"

"We'll see." Stiles finished his coffee and started on his ice water, chewing the straw and picking at his fingernails. He calmed, though, in the quiet, and finally said. "I'm sorry. I was a dick to you when you left and I'm sorry."

Derek shook his head. "It's okay. I didn't want to leave things like that, but...by the time I was done being angry, I didn't know how to reach back out."  And then he'd buried himself in school and then he'd met Jordan and later Braeden and he'd thought that the past was pretty much behind him and the next time he saw Stiles would be when he ended up at Westminster.

"It's okay. I probably wouldn't have let you back in anyway." Stiles looked up through his lashes and shrugged. "Things change, y'know? And it sucks and sometimes you don't know how to deal with it."

Derek nodded and remembered having to pull a too-young Stiles out of his hotel room to go catch frogs, or find a creek to wade in whenever they had to park the RVs in campgrounds. And now he was learning, by painful experience, the things you don't get the chance to say when people close to you die. "I get it."

The waitress arrived with their breakfast (or rather, breakfasts - Stiles had ordered two when he couldn't decide) and the moment faded to more mundane concerns, such as who got the syrup first, and the minor knife duel over the butter. Derek hadn't been to the diner in a while; he'd forgotten how much he liked their pancakes. And their bacon. "Save room for dessert. This place isn't called Cupcake's for nothing."

"We'll get it to go," Stiles said around a mouthful of omelet. "Cupcakes keep."

They ate in silence, punctuated with soft exclamations of how good the food was, a few 'here try this's off each others' plates, and when they both leaned back, beyond sated and well into the stuffed category, they groaned at the idea of dessert.

"You're gonna want some of these," Derek said, and got a half-dozen assorted cupcakes to go. He settled the check too, and handed the box to Stiles as they got back into the car. "You'll thank me later."

Beaker was glad to see them back, frisking around both their ankles when Derek let her out. "I'll take her out if you want to take a shower. The bathroom is one of the reasons I picked this place."

"Ugh, we just ate ourselves nearly sick and you want me to do _stairs?_ " Stiles did a quick pit check and wrinkled his nose. "Okay, but you'd better be right about the bathroom."

Derek laughed. "Just go, before you tell me again about that one hotel with the rainfall shower when you were in Vegas."

"Oh my god, I'd forgotten about that one! That's gonna be hard to top." Stiles grabbed clothes from his suitcase and headed upstairs. Derek took his time getting ready, head tilted to catch--

"Dude, you have _jets??"_

"Back in a bit!"

Derek took Beaker for a walk all the way around the building, ostensibly to let Stiles shower and dress, but he had a lot to wrap his head around when it came to having Stiles back in his life, even for a short time. A lot had happened in the last three years, and clearing the air between then and now was a lot to consider.

"I'm not the only one whose life went on, right, sweetie? I bet he's had some fun in the last couple years." He scooped her up and kissed the top of her head, leaning against the wall. "This won't get weird, will it?"  


Beaker didn't need to say anything. Things were already weird. It was a matter of time, and probably more than a few beers, before things got more personal. The question of _how_ personal had been decided the when the Stiles getting out of that Jeep wasn't the awkward seventeen-year-old in the back of his parents' minivan.

Was it a good idea? Most definitely not, but Stiles had said before that good ideas were for people who didn't know what fun was.

Okay, he'd lingered long enough. "Let's go, baby. Time to bite the bullet." He ruffled her ears and she kissed his chin. "Maybe we can get your topknot in today, hm? Show Uncle Stiles how pretty you stack? Eight months old and you stack like you're born for it."

Uncle Stiles. Okay. He was already thinking along those lines.

He felt the lingering humidity when he opened the door again. Stiles sprawled artfully on his couch, hair still damp and bare toes curled over the arm.

"Dude, jets. How did I live without them all this time?" Stiles dropped one hand down for Beaker and scooped her up to sit on his chest. "Did you have nice walkies, cute stuff? I hope you're ready for a roomate, because if I stay long enough in your daddy's shower I think I get squatters rights."

Derek grabbed a couple of sodas for them and sat on the floor, as they'd been when they had diner last night. "So."

Stiles eyed him, a little wary. "So..."

Nope, not ready for that talk yet. "So...how did you end up handling Ibizans after the wolfhounds?" _Nice segue, coward._

Stiles paused, but after a moment he relaxed as Beaker harassed him for pettings. "Dad was on his way to becoming an AKC judge, and that didn't leave much room for Oswin and Gwydion. We retired them with people who'd gotten pups from us and I went on the road with Dad for a while. We were at a show in Kansas and he saw a handler we both knew from the scenthound side of the hounds. He had no idea how to handle a sighthound, and every time he tugged on her..." He shook his head at the memory. "She was just really sweet. The kind of dog that could shine or sink depending on who was at the other end of that leash. I didn't know Ibizans, but I knew more about handling sighthounds more than _that_ asshole.

"Dad and I talked to her owners after she came out of the ring. They knew she wasn't doing well, but thought it was the dog until they handed me the leash. When I got her up and happy after just a few minutes with her, they fired the other handler on the spot and asked if I could come on the road with them and campaign her." He smiled at Derek. "That left Dad free to do what he needed to do for his judging application and that was my first pro handling job. I finished Cassie's championship in less than a month and a year later they took her off the road to breed her."

"That sounds awesome for you _and_ Cassie," Derek said. "And Ibizans to bull terriers?"

Stiles grinned at him. "Quid pro quo, Agent Starling," he said. "That was your freshman year of college I just covered. What did _you_ do besides join the mathletes?"

Derek snorted his Dr. Pepper through his nose and coughed.

"You did, didn't you? Oh my god, you joined the math club. How did _you_ end up so white and nerdy?"

Derek shook his head, glad for the coughing to explain the red face. "Not really." He coughed again and rubbed the back of his neck. "Someone I knew called me that."

"Someone?" Stiles sounded almost too casual and looked at Beaker instead of him when he asked. "Someone special?"

Derek shrugged, but couldn't help the smile. "He was for a while. We were on different paths and broke up before we hit that two roads diverged in wood bit, but yeah. He was good."

Now Stiles looked at him and seemed curious instead of...he wasn't sure what he'd seen before. "Tell me about him. What was his name?"

"Jordan." And now it was his turn to remember. "He was a criminal justice major. We met at the gym and we hit it off. He knew the good places to get a drink or a really good pizza, and where you wouldn't get thrown out if you came in on a date. It was really nice." Dating was something he'd always thought other people did, and he remembered Jordan laughing and requesting a shared bowl of spaghetti when he'd confessed it. "We had a lot of fun together."

Stiles nodded. "Good. You deserve good people and not assholes."

Derek smiled back at him. "So do you, you know. Did you have anyone special?" He watched his face for any sign of regret or anger (if Stiles could wish him good people, he sure as hell could do the same), but he was glad to see an answering blush and grin.

"Yeah, Danny and I got together for a while. Hard to maintain anything when you're on the road all the time." He snorted a soft laugh. "It helped that we had our own hotel rooms instead of having to share with our folks. We'd catch up at all-breed shows. Lots of Skyping when we were at our breed specialties." He shrugged and the smile faded. "When he pulled off the road to start breeding, he said that handling wasn't for him anymore. Roads diverged in a wood for us too."

Stiles sighed and ruffled Beaker's sleeping head. "Haven't done a whole lot since then. Working, traveling, handling. Made it to the Big Show a couple times, but haven't won the breed yet so no green carpet for me."

Derek nodded. "I watched every year. The only one I saw make it was Jackson." He made a face that mirrored Stiles. "Yeah, I know. He handled Prada last year, and when the Leonbergers made it to Westminster, I thought I saw one of Danny's dogs."

"Kahuna, yeah. I bet he makes it this year too. Amazing dog." Stiles snorted. "Maybe I should call and ask him if he needs a handler. I told Finstock to pretty much fuck off, so I don't know how much cred I'll have left when I go looking for a new gig."

"You'll do fine. You were the best of us in Juniors, and the dogs stacked for you like it was their life's work. When people find out you're looking for work, you'll have to beat them off with a stick."

Stiles smiled at him. "You were good too. When you worked with Kermit or Honeydew, they always had that extra bounce when you gaited them."

"That's because I was the one that played with them the most between shows. They remembered I was their buddy instead of The Boss." Derek smiled at Beaker, remembering the first time they'd looked at each other. Hey may have walked away from the dog show circuit, but her little face helped bring back better memories. "I didn't even know she was alive until after the fire."

Stiles let her gnaw gently at his finger. "She's a cute little girl, and she really does look like Fozzie. He was your foundation dog, wasn't he? Have you thought about--"

"No." He closed his eyes, though, and sighed as he admitted. "Kind of. I don't know." He looked at her instead of Stiles when he opened his eyes. "I thought I'd left it all behind. Or that I wanted to." He shrugged. "But things change, like you said."

"I'm just saying, if want to give it another go, I'm here for you." He grinned at him. "Or I can campaign her for you. I'll even give you a friends and family discount."

Derek chuckled. "Not a chance. You threw a fit on your last job and walked off. How do I know you won't do the same to me?"

"Bob Finstock would test the patience of Job and I lasted almost a year with him, and don't you even _start_ with the walking away from the job stuff." He poked his slightly-chewed finger at him. "You deserted me first."

Derek slid his hand across the coffee table, palm up. "I'm sorry about that."

Stiles lowered his hand into Derek's and squeezed. "I'm sorry I booted you in the ass when you did."

Derek squeezed back and the moment sat, comfortable at last.

"You want to watch a movie or something? You don't have to move." Beaker had gone back to sleep. "She's going to be out for a while."

"Sure. Just no dog movies."

"Not even _Best in Show_?"

"Ha. The only dog movie I'm willing to watch right now is _Cujo_."

Derek laughed and grabbed the remote. "Remember when that St. Bernard drive-by slobbered on Jackson's pants when he was on his way to the ring?"

"Oh my god, why do we have so many stories about Jackson's affronted face?"

"Because it was arguably the funniest thing about him?"

"This is true. _Princess Bride_?"

Derek smiled. "You knew this was one I'd replace after the fire, didn't you?"  He slid the disk into the player and moved back to the couch. "Move your legs. You're worse than a cat with taking up as much space as you can."

Stiles bent his legs so Derek could sit down; Derek lifted them and lay them across his lap. He reached over and petted Beaker. "This way I'm not pushing between your knees to pet my own dog."

"You only _wish_ you were reaching between my knees."

"You're such a child. Shut up, the fairy tale movie is starting."

Derek knew they'd eaten a huge breakfast, but he was still surprised that both of them dozed off before the Dread Pirate Roberts defeated Fezzik. He woke up when Inigo was fighting Count Rugen at last. He glanced over to see Stiles and Beaker still fast asleep. As he watched the scene he remembered an interview with Inigo's actor, who had found his motivation for the scene by picturing himself fighting the illness that killed his father, and how he'd found a way through his grief by pouring his heart and soul into this scene. Unbidden, he felt his own grief squeeze his heart.

_We just got back, sweetheart. Don't you want to at least have tonight as a family?_ She'd been wearing an old AKC hoodie with frayed cuffs and a stain that could have been anything from puppy puke to spilled soda.

_No! I've been picking foxtails and cleaning puppy shit for two weeks. I'm going to Jordan's party and we can do family stuff when I've had a break from dog duty._

He still remembered warmth of the summer night. He still remembered how relieved he was to not smell like puppy breath and dog hair. His father was wearing a shirt with Kermit and Fozzie's picture on it and knew it said _Boys and their Toys_ on the back and that his mother had gotten it for him as a joke that Christmas and he wore it every chance he got...

Derek thumbed the remote to pause it before Inigo could say his last line, pushed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He'd done his grieving, dammit. He would _not_ cry now.

But he did, as softly as he could until he felt Beaker nudge at his elbow and Stiles shift his legs away.  "Hey..." And Stiles' voice was so gentle and he was already drawing him in. Derek leaned into him and cried, grabbing for his shirt and holding on. Beaker pawed at his arm and whined softly but stayed where she was, and that's where he stayed for a while, with Beaker next to him and Stiles' arms around him.

Stiles held him through it all, and even rocked him a little, stroking up and down his back. "It's okay," he whispered. "You're all right."

With every sniffled breath he felt the tension ease in his shoulders, and the ball of grief uncurled and fell away, leaving him breathing easier than he had since the funeral. When he finally pulled back, he wasn't really 'all right', but he was closer to it than he'd been before. "Thanks."

Stiles squeezed his shoulder as Beaker wriggled in for petting. "I've been there. It hits you when you're not ready, because when you _are_ ready, you don't need to cry. Or panic. Or punch things."

Derek sighed and touched his forehead to Stiles', creating a little cave for Beaker to settle in between them. "Still. I haven't...there wasn't really anyone." There had been people, but they weren't part of the summer Juniors. _And they weren't you._

"That's why I came." Stiles squeezed the back of his neck. Derek tipped his head up enough that he felt Stiles' breath on his lips and before he really knew what he was doing he brushed his own lips to his. It was only a moment, the briefest flash of eyes-closed contact, but he felt Stiles' hand tighten on his shoulder and--

They both jumped when Beaker pawed at their chins and Derek drew back with a slow smile and warm ears. "Okay, I'm going to take Beaker out, and then we can talk or not talk about this when I get back."  Only then did he look up; Stiles' hands were a little jittery and his knee was already bouncing. _Definitely time for separate corners._ "Back in a bit."

"Sounds like a plan."

He scooped Beaker up and petted her on the way to get her leash on. He glanced back when he opened the door to see Stiles seemingly engrossed in the DVD special features menu. At least this was a Serious Business Walk (number two instead of just number one). That gave both of them a little extra time to think.

He smiled at Beaker as she sniffed diligently along their route, stopping to check her 'pee-mail'.

He took a deep breath, relieved to feel the knot of grief had loosened, enough that thinking of his family didn't tighten it again, even as he remembered teaching his Dad Fozzie's very specific pee-mail route around the house and the property when they were at the house instead of on the road. With the easing of the grief, however, there was the kiss to consider.

It was just the relief at  having someone be there for him, right? That's what made him lean in to kiss him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sure they'd gotten up to a few shenanigans when they were teenagers, but he'd gotten over that, right? Right?

The way his whole body had responded to the new breadth of Stiles' shoulders when he came out of the Jeep said no, he was so far from over it that Mount Over That was still a distant shadow on the horizon.  He looked up at the window to his loft and sighed.

He couldn't deny that he wanted to do more than just kiss Stiles. They'd done enough back in the day, and he'd had enough experience since, that he knew it would be good. But was this the grief? Was it clinging to a memory of a near-first time that brought these feelings to the surface?

Did it even matter? Were the feelings different now? They were, a little. He didn't feel the same desperation to do _something_ in the brief time they had before they parted again. He wasn't scared he was going to do something wrong or completely fuck up physically or embarrass himself. The feelings might be similar, but they were both different people with different experiences under their respective belts. If anything, they were _more_ ready to take this step than they were three and a half years ago.

But what if Stiles was up there trying to figure out ways to tell him that hey, he understood the feelings, but things really were different now and doing anything would be a mistake and he'd agree because  he wasn't the kind of guy who would turn this into a Powerpoint of why they should totally have sex and he would do his best not to make Stiles feel guilty for speaking up while inside he was utterly dying because he _wanted_ to take Stiles to bed and jesus christ what was even his life right now?

Derek picked up Beaker's business and tied off the plastic bag as she bounced around him, ready to go back inside. Clearly he had to throw the bag out in the dumpster on the other side of the building because he so wasn't ready to go back inside.  Because the answer certainly wasn't going to be not talking about the kiss. That would be as constructive as letting Beaker poop on the floor and pretend that they didn't smell it for three days. But what would he say? _Stiles, I kissed you because I still haven't forgotten that time in your parents' van when we came all over each other and didn't know what to do after, and I kind of want to do it again, only this time we both know what we're doing, so are you okay with that? Please say yes._

And then what? What if he said no, and he had to watch him pack his bags when he wasn't ready to let him go or be alone because who wants to stay in the same house with someone who just admitted he wanted to sleep with you, even if he respects that you might not want to. Jets in the shower wasn't going to mean shit if there was a FEELINGS ELEPHANT in the room trumpeting through any silence.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck what was he going to say?  He laughed helplessly as he wished for some kind of Dear Abby crisis hotline for advice on how to proceed when his id was leaping into bed with Stiles and his ego was waving ALL the caution flags. There had to be a line between 'It would feel so good and we both want it' and 'This is a terrible idea and you shouldn't even touch him for the remainder of his visit'.

He tossed the bag, clucked to Beaker and made his slow way back to the front door of the building. It was like the visit was ruined already, and he hadn't said anything yet. He had to say something, because what if Stiles was up there already deciding not to say anything and let him take the lead on this? God, wouldn't that be the O. Henriest of stories for their stupid relationship, that neither of them said anything about their feelings because they respected the other person too much to try and guilt them into bed?

He picked Beaker up and kissed her forehead while she licked his chin. "I'm an idiot, sweetie. Your owner's an idiot who doesn't know how to manage his own emotions anymore. So let's go see if Uncle Stiles is ready to manage them for both of us for a bit, okay?"  He pulled the elevator door shut. "Hopefully this doesn't mean this his last day here."

* * *

_"You got what?"_

_Derek smiled and popped the last bit of pizza crust in his mouth. "I got accepted." His hands had been shaky when he'd opened the letter from the university, but his parents had been...quietly happy for him. They'd said that he could stay at the house as long as he helped with the dogs when there were puppies and didn't have any wild parties, he didn't have to live on campus._

_"Accepted by what? Like an apprenticeship? Are you going to be handling for someone else?" Stiles wasn't smiling._

_"I got into University of Northern California. There's a chance for academic scholarships to offset some of the cost to my folks, but it's official." Derek smiled again, but it faded quickly when he saw that Stiles' frown hadn't wavered. "What? I thought you'd be happy."_

_"And why would you think that, Derek? Because everyone's happy when you're happy? Is that it?" Stiles began to shred the bits of his napkin._

_"No, that's not it. What's wrong? I'm going to college, I'm not leaving the country or anything."  Derek saw the clench in Stiles' jaw and winced inside._

_"No, of course you're not leaving. You're just leaving. So long, kids. It was fun while it lasted, and hey, it was really awesome kissing you and everything, but I gotta move on."  Stiles looked up when he ran out of napkin. "Why would I be upset? You're **happy**. I should be **thrilled** for you."_

_"Stiles, it's not like that. Please--" "Then what is it like, Derek? What's it like to basically kiss this life goodbye for what? For **school**? You hate high school! You live for the summers when we're all on the road and nobody's looking funny at you because you're the kid with the dead mother who sits alone in the cafeteria."  Stiles shuffled forward and pushed the hatch back of the van open, and Derek followed after him._

_"Stiles, what are you talking about? Will you just stop--" Derek turned and ran back to the van, shut the back door, then raced to catch up with him. "This doesn't have to mean anything for us!"_

_Stiles rounded on him, and Derek rocked back on his heels at the anger that had him practically vibrating. "Fuck. You! It means **everything**. What, do you think we'll keep in touch? You'll be in college, making a whole new life for yourself."_

_Derek frowned right back at him, a little anger of his own flaring to life. "And what's wrong with that? What's wrong with wanting to have my own life? My own room instead of a pull-out bed in an RV? To wake up and look  out the window and see the same thing for a while?"_

_"Oh, I'm so sorry getting to travel all over the country before you're eighteen is such a struggle for you. I had no idea!"  Stiles scrubbed at his nose with his fist. "We travel all around the country and get to hang out with our friends and **play with dogs all day.** Talk about a shit life you're living--"_

_Derek had never been on the pointed end of Stiles' anger before, and it hurt, hearing the contempt and seeing his lip-curled sneer when all he wanted was for someone to understand what he wanted, so badly.  "What's wrong with wanting to **do something** with my life! To do something or invent something that makes a **difference** in the world!  I want people to know my name instead of my dog's.  I want to do something **real** , and I sure as hell can't do that when I'm some nameless guy showing off a stupid dog so someone else can maybe write it down in a book that won't mean shit in a couple years."_

_Derek expected more shouting. What he didn't expect was the explosion of pain in his nose as he looked up at Stiles from the pavement. Over the throbbing of his nose, the shouting came._

_"Is that real enough for you, asshole? Fuck you, Derek. Fuck you and your stupid face. I hope you find the life you want and **hate** it. Or better yet, I hope you find the life you want so you don't have to think about all the years you wasted with us losers. Or when it's time for you to accept whatever fucking awards you win for this real life you want? You can't think of anyone because you're all alone. All alone with a dead mother and your only friend who meant anything told you you were **nothing** to him but a placeholder until he went and made a **difference**."_

_Derek tried to staunch the blood with his shirt and heard the squeak of Stiles' sneakers as he ran off.  He pushed to his feet with a groan, tears sliding down to mingle with the blood as he made his way back to the hotel. He'd go in through a side door, or they'd make a big deal in the lobby._

Derek blinked when the elevator came to a stop, and he took a deep breath before he let himself back into the loft.


	5. Reconnecting and Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They use their words some more, and go a little further.
> 
> (this chapter has NC-17 content)

Stiles sat on the couch after Derek left, his eyes on the door (or really on Derek's ass) until he disappeared.

_What the fuck did he do what the fuck do I do this was sort of why I came in the first place and what do I say I never really got over the massive crush I had on you and you're sort of a really cool guy still and I think that you might come back to the show circuit after you've had enough time to think holy shit you kissed me and I wasn't expecting that I just wanted to hold you like someone else held me when mom died_

He shook his head, knee bouncing as he pulled himself off that train of thought. Derek wouldn't be gone long and he had to figure if they should talk or if he should just meet him at the door with the kiss he really wanted to give him and let things happen from there.

They should talk. They really should. But he hated talking because that gave his brain too much time to think his way out of why things shouldn't happen that way and his brain SUCKED that way and was why he tended to blaze ahead of things and it usually worked for him but this time he wasn't so sure. This time Derek was fragile. Maybe he was just clinging to something in his grief that was familiar and he didn't even mean it or would regret it by the time he came back through the door and FUCK HE WAS DOING IT AGAIN.

He still stared at the door. Stupid brain. He really wanted to kiss him again. He would kiss him again whether they talked or not because he wasn't ready that time and he needed to feel what he quite possibly wouldn't feel again if Derek didn't really feel that way about him and SHUT THE FUCK UP BRAIN. He was kissing him. Period.

But then what? Would they spend the next however many weeks fucking like bunnies and oh god he really does have a great ass and arms and he smelled so good even though he hadn't showered yet this morning and THEN WHAT? Would he go back on the road and leave Derek to contemplate his fate? Would he have to abandon Derek back to college? What would HE do after getting a taste of what real love was like even though he wasn't even sure what it was in the first place. Could he go back to what he was doing now that he didn't want to leave Derek like this, or in any state but With Him For Good And All?

Fuck, this would be so much easier if Derek hadn't left to take the dog out. He still watched the door. Shit. Fuck. He really did have a great ass, and he wanted to show him all the fun tricks Danny had taught him because oh my god, so many tricks that he'd blow Derek's mind as well as his dick and he really wanted to show him that he was more than just the angry teenager who'd punched him in the face and left him to do whatever with his bloody nose and Stiles' broken dreams and heart.

He still watched the door. The stupid puppy had the bladder the size of a walnut why wasn't he back yet? He wanted to hide in the bathroom like Derek was doing the equivalent of outside. What would they do when he came back? He wanted to feel how comfortable Derek's bed was, even if they both just wanted to cuddle and give Derek some human contact that he hadn't really had since the fire. He knew there had been nobody who really was there for him like everyone had been there for him after his mother. People from the dog world were sometimes the only ones to understand when the dog world lost someone, whether they had two legs or four. And he really just wanted to hug Derek and be sorry for what he'd done and maybe kiss him a little without even anything more happening.

But jesus christ, he really wanted to blow him too. And he knew that Derek hadn't been a monk in those three years either and probably had a few tricks up his sleeve and on his tongue and there he was back to fucking him, or being fucked by him and wouldn't THAT be fun because he hadn't been fucked because Danny liked riding him and liked Stiles fucking him but Derek was someone he would have bottomed for and would again if that was the kind of guy he was in bed. Now he wanted to know everything about this Jordan guy and what he'd liked and if there were any other guys that Derek had been with that made him smile the way talking about Jordan had. He'd have to find this Jordan guy and thank him, unless Jordan had been really really bad in bed and Derek just didn't know any better.

He still watched the door. Too many things were up in the air, not the least of which was why Derek hadn't come back and put his brain out of his loop of misery and prurient stream of consciousness please Derek just come back inside I swear we will talk and I won't just drag you upstairs and show you the world like fucking Aladdin and his stupid carpet.

He still watched the door. In his mind, they were already on his bed on the comforter that looked so soft and he bet the sheets were an insane thread count and the blanket was warm without being that warm that made you stick a leg out just to regulate your body temp through the night because that was the kind of guy Derek was, the kind of guy that cared about the comfort of his partner, or he wouldn't have gotten that sweet pull-out couch that didn't have the Bar of Doom in the middle that broke your back before the night was even half over and a pillow that was too comfortable to be one of those five dollar pillows you bought just to fill the shams HE HAD SHAMS PERIOD and that--

He jumped as the door rolled open and Derek came back in, and he made much of Beaker when she scampered over to him. "You are still the cutest puppy ever, you know that?"

"Trust me, she knows," Derek said, hanging the leash up on its hook. He joined both of them on the couch as the DVD finally stopped and went back to the menu screen again. He was quiet, and watched Beaker instead of him and Stiles knew he would have to be the one to break the silence.

"Okay, so I think I entertained and discarded about ten different scenarios while Beaker took the longest pee break ever, and I have a proposition for you that you can take or leave as you like." He paused as Derek met his eyes again. "I never really got over my stupid crush on your stupid face, and you've gotten, like, even more attractive since the last time I saw you. At the very least, I'd like to cuddle with you, either here or upstairs, with the option, or not, of anything more happening at your discretion and with your enthusiastic consent." He tried to smile and hoped it wasn't a nervous grimace. "Ball. Court. Yours."

Derek didn't say anything for what felt like ten years, but he also didn't get up and move away, or take Beaker away from him because he didn't want dirty thoughts getting all over his dog. "I think...I think your proposal sounds good." He petted Beaker and smiled. "And here is good, but let's put Beaker in her kennel just in case things move upstairs."

Stiles nodded, already wanting to melt into liquid relief that Derek didn't kick him out or get really awkward. "That also sounds like a good plan."

Thankfully, the walk to Beaker's kennel did not take Derek out of the room thanks to the whole open concept loft thing, so by the time he got back to the couch Stiles hadn't had time to pick a good spot to sit because did Derek want to lie on him, or did he want Stiles to cuddle up on him and THANK GOD Derek solved the issue by sitting down close enough that it was Stiles that shifted back and let Derek lie with his head pillowed on Stiles' chest. Stiles reached for the remote to start the movie up again but Derek stole it and thumbed around until he found a music channel and turned the volume low enough for them to hear each other when they talked.

He couldn't help reaching up to pet Derek's hair because it was too soft for words, really, and he cast about frantically for something to talk about. "You know, if you do decide to come back, it's a whole new world outside of Junior Showmanship."

Derek mmm'ed and rested his hand on Stiles' leg. "My parents usually had a _lot_ of things to say when they would get back from the shows."

"Now that Dad's starting to judge, I get the inside track from his side of the exam table too." Derek hadn't turned his head away from the petting, so he started to scritch his scalp lightly. "He's doing wolfhound specialties now, and before the shows he's seriously wined and dined by the local breed club, but after the show when he's picked the winner based on the breed standard and not on who spent the most money on the show sponsorship? They pretend not to know him as he packs up his stuff."

"How's it from the pro handling side now that you're not a breeder-owner-handler?" Derek shifted to push his head _into_ the caress, and Stiles smiled.

"It's not bad, I guess? I tend to have people approach me with dogs that need a little extra something. The Ibizan I handled was a little ring-shy, so I worked hard with her until she looked forward to things instead of hiding behind me. The bull terrier was dog aggressive, so we had to work hard to keep him calm and focused on me instead of the dog behind him on the once arounds." He snorted. "And Chuckles straight up had a fault that I can't believe judges overlooked sometimes. His tail was set a little high so he carried it gay, so we had to work until he would carry it low during gaiting."

"So unlike Jackson, who can take an already good dog and make it look great--"

"There are some dogs who aren't great _unless_ they're with me," Stiles finished for him. "That helps get me work, but I know it's not going to be just picking up the lead and breezing into the ring." He chuckled. "Guess it was good that I got that practice in with Clancy and Oswin."

Derek laughed with him. "I don't know how you do it. My parents had me handle someone's Foxhound once to try and get me experience with different breeds and I completely botched it."

"Oh god, I remember that show. You got to the judge and looked around for the examination table because you were so used to the toys, and you almost tripped over yourself gaiting because you had to run instead of walk."

Derek groaned. "Yeah. Jackson put that one up on YouTube and I think I turned his one pair of jeans into cut-off booty shorts to get back at him."

"Yes! God, I wish we'd figured out a way to make him wear them, but he was so pissed because they were some name brand bullshit that he had to have imported or something."

Derek reached up and squeezed his arm once. "I miss talking about this stuff. I might have left, but every time I tried to tell some of our stories they just...it wasn't just that you had to be there, but you had to understand the whole show thing." He stretched his legs out and settled again.

"Well, you found some folks who didn't know all that and still hung out with you." He smiled again. "Even got at least one of them into bed."

"Two, actually." Stile saw Derek's ears go pink again.

"Oh yeah? What was his name?"

" _Her_ name was Braeden."

Stiles whistled, instantly intrigued. "Really. Wow, didn't know you swung for both fences. Cool. Did you meet her at the gym too?"

Derek shook his head. "At the library. She was in my Composition class and we were working on a research paper together."

"You know, for a math major, I don't hear you talking about any math friends you made."

Derek snorted. "Yeah, well you know how people kind of glaze over when we start talking about dogs and shows and stuff? I guess it's the same for non-math people when the math people start talking about the competitions they'd done in high school and did you know there was a math camp? I thought that was only for marching band. What goes on in math camp?"

"You could have asked?" Stiles smiled, then laughed. "Oh my god, I sound like Scott when he told me that I should try and make friends at school after you left."

"Exactly. I mean, it was college so things are supposed to be different, but all I really knew was how...tight we were in the summers, and that even though I'd made a friend or two at school during the year, they were never My People." Stiles heard the extra capitals on the last. "Even when I wanted out of the show stuff, I didn't want to lose the people."

Stiles slid his hand from Derek's hair to his shoulder, squeezing a quiet apology. He wasn't the only one who felt he'd lost his world, apparently, but they were here now, and at least a little more grown up about things. "So Braeden, huh?"

Derek smiled, and covered Stiles' hand with his. "Yeah, Braeden. We had fun for a few months, but we both knew it wasn't going anywhere serious. She taught me a _lot_." He chuckled and looked up, curious. "Have you ever been with a girl?"

Stiles shook his head. "Nope. I'm all about the fellas up here."

"It's _really_ different. Not in a bad way, just...different. But she and Jordan were both awesome first times, which I can only attribute to dumb luck after some of the stories I heard about first times."

Stiles grinned down at him. "Like I said, you deserve good people. Danny and I had fun too. We messed up and laughed a lot, but even if things didn't work out it made for a good running joke later."

"That's all we can ask, right?"

"And you meeting good people isn't dumb luck, you handsome asshole." He ruffled Derek's ridiculously soft hair. Seriously, what did he put in it? "People know good people when they see them."

Derek smiled. "Yeah, well so do shitty people who trust good people not to notice at first. But we both made it though that first time with good people, so there's that."

"And we're still both good people, so gold stars for us." Stiles petted his hair again and tugged it once. "And the kiss? Think you'd be up for more of that? I mean, we kind of have some time to make up for after you ran out on me."

Derek snorted and shook his head. "Did you bring some weed to get me in the mood like the last time we tried this?"

"Who needs weed? There's beer in the fridge. I can get you drunk."

"Oh my god. And here I thought you were still a good person." Derek shifted and sat back up a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you maybe up for more of it? I mean, I want to. But I know that I'm in a rough place right now and might just want someone close that I remember from happier times--"

Stiles leaned up and took Derek's hands, rolling forward until he was kneeling and so close they were practically sharing breath. "I'm not here to be your therapist, but I can be your friend who maybe wants a little of that connection too." He smiled and kissed his cheek. "And maybe we can both try what we had back then again only this time with a little more experience guiding the way? How does that sound?"

Derek didn't move for a bit, but Stiles saw a lot going on behind his eyes before he leaned in and kissed him back. "Yeah," he said. "I think that sounds pretty good."

"Excellent." Stiles squeezed his hands and let them go to slide his palms up Derek's arms, then leaned in to kiss him properly.

Danny had told him when they'd first started messing around that kissing wasn't a competition, but a conversation. When he kissed Derek, he wanted it to be like the hug he gave him when he first arrived. _Good to see you, wanted to do this for a while and I hope you're cool with it too._

Derek was gentle with his answer, but when Stiles brushed his tongue to the seam of his lips he opened readily for him, and his moan told him that Derek was more than cool with what was happening and what might happen later.

_Forget later. Now is pretty goddamned awesome too._

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, one hand at the back of his head, thumb stroking along his hairline and he relaxed into the kiss. He kept his hands where they were, content to kiss him for as long as Derek wanted;he had the wheel this first time. Derek kissed like every press, every stroke of his tongue were questions instead of needs. _Do you like this? Do you want this? Really? With me?_ Stiles answered as best he could, even when it meant pressing back hard. _Yes, I want this, especially with you so enjoy it you dense asshole._

After that, Derek pushed forward like he was a starving man offered a three-course meal, and Stiles moaned when he brought his hands up to cradle his face. He offered himself up eagerly, leaning back until Derek was on top of him, hips between Stiles' legs and one hand up under Stiles' shirt. He felt so _good_ , both of them surer with their touch and kisses now that they knew what really felt good instead of groping for what might feel good. He stroked both hands down to palm his ass and squeeze. They were both hard, but ignoring it for what was feeling good right then and there.

Once Stiles had discovered how awesome sex felt, foreplay had faded into screw-it-let's-get-to-the-feel-good parts when he and Danny were together. Now, with Derek stretched along his body and all the time in the world to explore each other, he wondered if that urgency had been more of a desire to make the most of the limited time they had between shows and traveling. Because right now? He was pretty sure he could kiss Derek forever. He moaned into his mouth and shifted to kiss his throat, then up under his ear.

"God, you feel good," he whispered, and Derek grunted when Stiles nipped softly at his ear. "I missed you so much."

Derek leaned down to chase another kiss, thumb stroking along from his cheekbone over his temple. "I missed you too. Should have reached out."

"Not your fault." Stiles nudged his fingertips down past his waistband to feel him through one less layer of clothes. "We're here now. We get to try again." He smiled and teased where the crease of his ass met his thigh. "And now we can make things even better."

Derek gasped and grinned at him. "This is already better than your parents' van. I think we're doing all right."

Stiles laughed and shook his head. "Shut up and kiss me, you dork." And Derek did, and it was pretty awesome.

Derek drew back after a little while and whispered against his mouth. "How about we take this upstairs? There's more room, and other stuff if we need it."

Stiles smiled up at him. "Already planning to have your wicked way with me? Way to assume."

Derek covered Stiles' face with his hand. "Asshole." He shifted off the couch and offered his hand to help Stiles up, looking vaguely ridiculous with his erection tenting his pants. Stiles knew he looked just as ridiculous with kiss-swollen lips and an equally embarrassing dick wanting so much more than just a cuddle.

"Your bed is ridiculous, by the way. You don't have food in your fridge but you have pillow shams." He followed him close to the little spiral staircase. "We're getting you decent food later and I'm cooking for you tomorrow."

"That's assuming I even let you out of bed."

"And there we go again with the assuming. We'll see who tires who out first."

* * *

 

They made their way up the stairs and didn't fall until they reached the bed. Derek remembered the same kind of happy tumble with other partners, but put it out of his mind as Stiles crawled up his body to kiss him again. They were both hungry, pushing for more sounds, more skin as their shirts came off in quick struggles and flings to the side of the bed. Derek grabbed his ass and pulled him hard against his hips, wrapping one leg around Stiles' calf to keep him there. They were both hard. Derek wanted to taste him.

"Jesus, Derek, you're like a frickin' slab of Adonis."

Derek laughed and swatted his ass. "Shut up. I work out."

"I'll give you a workout, big guy," Stiles batted his eyes and Derek laughed again, enjoying the look on Stiles' face when he pushed his hand down into his boxers to palm his ass more completely.

"Is that right?" he asked, slipping one finger down to tease his hole. Stiles gasped again. _Yes._

"That shouldn't be fucking legal anymore. Pants off, both of us."

They struggled out of their pants until they were facing each other on the bed, exploring, teasing when they found sensitive spots and then moving on. Derek wanted to learn every part of Stiles where he could coax those sounds of surprise and pleasure, and shifted down his body to explore more directly with tongue and lips and teeth. His nipples were extremely sensitive, he found, and he spent a good deal of time mouthing and licking at the dark trail of hair from his navel to his dick. "Mm..." He could smell him there, something familiar from back when they experimented in his parents' van. This time he would taste him properly

He moved down again and nosed softly at the crease of his thigh where it met his pubic hair. Stiles almost lurched off the bed when he licked him there

"Hold still." He wrapped his arm around Stiles' thigh. He had work to do. Very, very enjoyable work. He kissed his way up Stiles' shaft and swirled his tongue slowly around the crown of him, tasting the salty slick he found there before taking him halfway in.

"Oh my god, Derek." Stiles shoved his fingers into his hair and tugged. "Your fucking MOUTH."

Derek moaned, loving the taste of him and the way he was reacting, and slid him even deeper, swiping his tongue from side to side on his way down. He'd learned a lot from Jordan, and even more from what Braeden had done to him, and he intended to lavish all of it on Stiles as if to make up for the three years they'd been apart. He bobbed up and down slowly, pausing when Stiles gasped, licking when Stiles tugged, and hollowing his cheeks to suck hard when Stiles keened at him and twisted his fingers in his hair. He only moved down to his balls when he'd taken him part way into his throat, and he sucked first one, then the other in as Stiles lost his words and pushed his face hard into him to feel MORE. He bent Stiles' leg up and moved even lower, nipping at his perineum and teasing down towards his hole.

There had been more porn, and both Jordan and Braeden had been excellent teachers. He lapped at the split of him and tapped his tongue in jabbing dabs at his hole, still keeping a firm hold so Stiles didn't catapult himself off the bed. He sucked a little purple bruise on one cheek before returning to his hole and teasing him open before he finally let up on him, and kissed his way back up to his belly.

"Derek you are fucking amazing."

Derek smiled. "I want to fuck you," he whispered, and kissed his belly again. "Can I? Can I fuck you?"

Stiles keened again, and stroked his hair back with another little sigh. "Just your fingers. Your fingers and your mouth and maybe later, just don't fucking stop."

Derek smiled again, and nodded. "Then pass me the lube?"

Stiles ripped the nightstand drawer open and all but threw the tube down at him, and Derek laughed as he slicked his fingers and kissed his crown again. "Someone's in an awful hurry."

"Did you lose your hands down there? I don't feel any fingers in my ass."

Derek nipped hard at his inner thigh to make Stiles yelp, then teased his fingers in a circling press to slicken him as well. When he slid his finger inside he moved his mouth back down to his balls, sucked at them as he pushed his finger deep.

"Oh...oh fuck Derek that's...more. More." He rolled his hips carefully so he didn't catch his teeth. "Please."

Derek may or may not have been thinking about this moment since he saw Stiles get out of that car. Regardless, he wasn't about to deny him now. He slid his finger out and, on the next instroke, twisted his middle finger in with it. Stiles' body gripped him with quick little grabs and he moaned with him.

"God, you're so tight, and that's just my fingers." He kissed where he'd bitten him before. "Has anyone fucked you, Stiles?"

"Nnngh...I left the bag with _those_ toys in the car." Stiles bucked his hips as if to pull his fingers deeper. "Maybe I'll show you later. Don't stop."

Derek pushed in with mouth and fingers, darting his tongue in to tease the skin stretched around his fingers, twisting his fingers to spread him. "You're so gorgeous...look at you. We could barely handle getting our pants open around each other back then, and here we are, with my fingers in your ass and you spread out on my bed."

"Oh my christ, who let you _talk_ this much in bed?"

Derek grinned as Stiles practically shoved his body down to take more of his fingers and leaned in to attack his perineum, pressing hard with his nose and tongue. He curled his fingers just so, and when he brushed against where he knew Stiles would like it he braced his arm harder over his belly to avoid any mishaps. "There," he breathed across his wet skin, and twisted his fingers again. "That's it."

Stiles' tugged his hair again, the other clutching at the sheets. "Oh jesus christ Derek I have to send someone a fucking thank you note I don't care who it was I want to fuckingOH SHIT!" He fought Derek's hold on him, toes curled and mouth open to pant and beg. "Don't stop don't stop don't stop I'm gonna..."

Derek loved every second of his helpless words. He wanted to keep him there on the edge for a while, but now that they'd started this new journey he knew he would have other chances. He curled his fingers again to stroke his prostate and leaned up to nose hard at his balls. "Touch yourself," he murmured against the crisp hair beneath his lips.

He heard Stiles _whimper_ above him and sucked his balls in again, one by one, as he felt Stiles reach down and tug at his dick. He didn't need to say anymore and just concentrated on his fingers and his tongue teasing him the rest of the way to his climax. _Oh my god, I never thought we'd get here again. I don't know where we're headed but I'm glad you came I want you to come please come for me..._

Stiles made another helpless noise above him and he felt it then, the hard spasms of Stiles' body around his fingers and the frantic bumps of Stiles' fist against his nose as he came, on his belly and chest and knuckles. Derek rode through it with him, twisting his fingers in one last instroke to hold them there, and licked with a few last presses on his perineum until Stiles batted softly at his head with panted _please's_ and _stop's_.

He smiled and slid his fingers out, kissing his thigh one more time before he grabbed for someone's tee shirt to clean his fingers off.  His own erection had flagged a bit and he didn't mind ignoring it as he  moved up Stiles' body to kiss his throat.  "Good...?" he asked, and grinned at Stiles' bleat of laughter.

"I'll...let you know when my legs stop shaking...asshole."

Derek offered him the tee shirt to wipe himself down and kissed his cheek. "Admit it. That was way better than we would have gotten up to in your parents' van."

Stiles chuckled and tossed the shirt away after he'd cleaned up. "Not to mention the potential for Pavlovian reactions to the smell of dog. Would have made shows a LOT more awkward." He paused as Derek curled into him. "Wait, you didn't...did you come?"

Derek smiled and kissed his shoulder before tugging one of his pillows down under his head. "Not yet. Besides, you're paralyzed from the waist down, aren't you?"

"Oh no. We are _not_ ending this with you napping on your blue balls when I have a perfectly serviceable mouth right here." He shifted and pushed Derek back onto his back. "You have about fifteen seconds to lie back and think of England because..."

Derek watched with a smile as Stiles moved down his body to kiss his half-mast cock, but when Stiles looked up at him and took him halfway in with a hollow-cheeked moan, he dropped his head back to the pillow and groaned. "Holy shit."

He bent one leg up when Stiles pushed at his thigh, and this time it was _his_ turn to grab at the sheets and hang on. His tongue was _everywhere_ , sweeping side-to-side across the width of his shaft and then jabbing at the slit and swirling around the so-sensitive tip.  "Oh my god, Stiles....ah!" He rocked up into Stiles' eager mouth and tried not to choke him when he really wanted to just shove his hand into his hair and _fuck_.

He heard a little 'pop' and didn't have time to figure out what it was before it was Stiles' fingers pressing into _his_ ass. He let out his breath in a soft "haaah", relaxing for him and rolling his hips for more. He loved being fucked more than he loved fucking his partners, and he wanted to do both with Stiles. He wanted to do _everything_ with Stiles for as long as this whatever-they-were lasted.

He whimpered low in his throat when Stiles added another finger, mouth still busy on his cock and when his tongue fluttered just beneath his tip he groaned; he didn't want to come, but the pleasure he'd gotten from taking Stiles there had already primed him, and there was no way that he was going to last longer than the next thirty seconds because _holy shit_ he was so good.  Quiet too, so much so that he opened his eyes and looked down to...he didn't even know what. To check on him?

He saw Stiles' eyes closed, intent with fingers and lips and tongue as he rutted his hips into the blankets like he wanted to come again, right with him until they were both exhausted.  Seeing Stiles taking so much of his own pleasure from bringing _him_ off sent him catapulting over the edge, gasping and desperately holding his hips still with every pulse of his come and _oh my god he hasn't stopped sucking me--!_

He collapsed to the bed with another roll of his hips, dragging his head up again to see Stiles swallow and slide off and out of him. "Jesus," he said, letting go of the sheets and stroking his hair with shaky fingers. "Thank you."

Stiles smiled and kissed his belly on the way back up to lie with him. "Quid pro quo, Clarice," he teased, and nosed in for another slow kiss.  "Do you big spoon or little spoon, because that might have been a hell of a workout, but I'm still carbed out from the breakfast we had."

Derek chuckled. "Do you save up words that you don't use while you're blowing someone?  I'm okay with either spoon so long as I'm on this side of the bed."

"Good. I do better big spooning so far. I think I still have pics that Danny sent me of bruised shins because I woke myself up kicking back at him."

"And since I have no wishes to court that kind of danger while naked..." Derek turned on his side and let Stiles curl up behind him, lacing their fingers briefly when Stiles' hand slid across his belly.

"I'm glad you're here," he said as he drifted off. "Glad we got here."

"I can't believe you have pillow shams on your bed and jets in your stupid shower."

Derek smiled and squeezed his hand again. He knew what Stiles meant.


	6. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets a call, Derek has a wake-up call.

Stiles' phone buzzed while he was making coffee. For all that Derek was the more house-conscious of the two of them, in the three weeks Stiles had been there Derek slept more than any cat he'd ever known. He scooped Beaker up and put her in her x-pen as before he stepped out on the balcony to take the call.

"Hello?" "Mister Stilinski, this is Chris Argent of Silverside Malinois."

Stiles blinked, surprised. "Good morning, sir. What can I do for you?" The Argents were known for their versatile dogs in the conformation, obedience _and_ sport rings, and made a good bit of their show money training dogs for law enforcement.

"We heard that you're currently between jobs, and we have a dog that we'd like to campaign and our current handler is out with an injury. We were hoping you could step in for a while during her recovery."

Stiles glanced inside, as if Derek could hear the conversation. "That's quite an offer, Mister Argent. Did you want to meet to discuss the particulars? I can Skype if you're away from the west coast..."  


"There's no need for that. We can fly you down to us. You're currently near Sacramento, correct? We're just in L.A. I can have tickets waiting at the gate for you by the weekend. I'm hoping you'll consider us. You know the caliber of our dogs and we have a great respect for those who handle them. If you give me your e-mail address, I can send you our current handler's number, and a few references for you to check."

"That...that would be a good first step, Mister Argent. Thank you." He gave him his e-mail address, stomach already starting to churn. "Can I call you at this number?"

"You can. I'll send the references and a contract so you can understand our terms and your salary. I hope to hear from you soon."

"You can count on it. Give me forty-eight hours and I'll be in touch." Stiles leaned against the balcony rail. "Thank you."

"Have a good day."

Stiles shoved the phone in his pocket and slid down to sit on the balcony. He jumped when his phone buzzed again and checked it to see the text from Scott.

_Did the Argents call u? They needed a handler and I told them u were awesome._

Stiles smiled and texted back. _Just hung up with them. I hope I'm worth the hype. Call you later._

As soon as the phone was back in his pocket his hands started to shake. He and Derek were getting really good together. He wasn’t as restless at night anymore, and he was starting to really see Derek smile and relax again. Now he had a job offer that potentially started in a few days. How was he going to tell him that?

He already knew he was taking the job. He needed the money and he needed to get back into the show circuit before...what? Before he got too comfortable here being _happy_ and finally getting the kind of relationship he'd wanted with Derek?

Maybe Derek would come back with him. Beaker was a fabulous, type-y little dog with a great attitude, and she made Derek smile. It wouldn't cut much of a chunk out of his inheritance to kit himself out for it, and if he got back in the game maybe he'd see that it wasn't as bad as he'd imagined when he went away to school--

"Stiles?"

He startled out of his panic to see Derek in the doorway to the balcony, two cups of coffee in his hands. "Hey...I wasn't sure where you were. How'd..." he yawned, and Stiles smiled at his stupid perfect bunny teeth. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a rock," he said, reaching up for the cup and patting the concrete balcony floor for him to join him. "Your little miss is letting both of us sleep in longer. She'll be house-trained before you know it."

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it; Derek frowned. "You gonna get that?"

Stiles shook his head and sighed, taking a sip of the coffee. It was just the way he liked it too. Fuck. "It's nothing," he said. "Scott texted me before you came out."

"Oh yeah? How's he doing? You said he was working with a traveling vet and taking online classes, right?" Derek looked genuinely interested, and Stiles hated himself for it.

"Yeah. He said he might be in town in a couple days and wanted to meet up. I told him I'd ask if you were interested." _Stop lying you asshole. He doesn't deserve this, not when he's finally getting his feet back under him._

Derek smiled without a hint of reluctance. "Sounds great. I'd like to see him again, see how he's doing." He sipped his coffee then tilted his head, brows knitting with a gentle twist. "Hey, what's up?"

Stiles leaned forward and kissed him and tasted his French vanilla creamer under the tang of morning breath. "Your stupid face is what's up. Let's go back to bed. Beaker's been out and had her breakfast," he added quickly before Derek could protest and he set both their mugs aside on the balcony to crowd him back inside. "We have a least another couple hours before she gets too antsy."

Derek smiled into the kisses and slid his hands right down the back of Stiles' pants. "Look at you, all frisky this morning." He nipped at his chin then kissed back to his ear. "Maybe you get to fuck me today."

Phone call? What phone call? "Yeah? You been fucked before?" Now that they'd taken that step, every detail he learned about Derek's sex life just turned him on more. "Did Jordan fuck you?"

Derek nodded and flushed pink. "We switched off, yeah...same with Braeden."

Stiles barked out a laugh before he could stop himself, but kissed Derek hard before he hurt his feelings. "Oh my god, that's so fucking hot." He was hard just thinking about it. "Did you like it when she fucked you? Did she use different toys? Did she have a favorite? Come upstairs and tell me."

They made their way upstairs to the rumpled bed. They'd gotten a bigger tube of lube since their first time and Stiles wasted no time bullying Derek back onto the bed and out of his pants again. "Don't stop now," he said. "Did she have a favorite? Did she have more than one?"

He closed his mouth around Derek's cock as he heard him answer. "Oh...yes. She had two that she showed me. Let me pick." Stiles kept sucking him and Derek continued, one hand dropping to his hair, finger stroking his ear. "Jesus...one of them was a regular one. Looked normal, maybe thicker than normal. The other--GOD! The other was knobby. It felt _incredible_."

Stiles breathed in and took him deep, until Derek was nudging bluntly against the back of his throat, and he came back up only when he needed to breathe. He shucked off his pants and leaned in again, kissed the base of his cock. "Did she fuck you from behind? Or did she put you on your back, where she could watch your face when you took it?" He slicked up his own fingers and teased Derek’s hole, sliding one finger in when it looked like he was going to reply.

"AH-ha...from behind with th-the regular one. But with the other." He rolled his hips for more. "She liked to watch me take that one."

Stiles obliged with another finger and leaned up to kiss him again, sucking at his tongue as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out. "I am so hard for you right now, thinking about how you look when you're fucked by your girlfriend. Makes me wish I had wilder stories to turn _you_ on." He pulled his fingers out to drizzle lube along his dick and knelt up, angling himself into place as he watched Derek's face. "Gonna watch you too."

He pushed, pushed, and he was in, both of them gasping at the way Derek opened for him, then closed so tight around him. "Jesus you're so tight...fuck, look at you." He watched Derek drag his eyes half-open and smiled down at him, hooking one arm under his knee to bend it up and pushing in until his hips touched the backs of his thighs. "Look at you." He braced his other hand on the bed just at his ribs and started to move, watching every twitch of Derek's face as he did it. "You're fucking gorgeous, Derek." He rocked into him a little faster. "Touch yourself, c'mon. Let me see it."

He leaned back so he could see it all, from Derek's parted lips to the way he groped for his cock to stroke it, to the sight of his own dick sliding in and out of him and it felt amazing. When Derek's expression changed, though, and his eyes closed again and he started stroking himself faster, Stiles leaned forward again to fuck him in earnest, hips clapping against Derek's thighs as he quickened the pace.

"That's it," he blustered at him through clenched teeth. "Fuck, you're so good. So hot I don't know what to do with you half the time with your eyes and your mouth that was made for sucking my dick and jesus christ your ass...unh, come on, Derek. Let me feel you. Fuck, baby, come on. Come on."

Derek keened beneath him, his hand a blur between their bellies as his mouth dropped open again. "Oh jesus. Oh god, oh god, ohgod YES--!" He arched up hard, his body spasming around Stiles' dick like it was trying to squeeze it dry as he came, hot streaks shooting up his belly and chest, and not even Stiles could hold out for the way Derek writhed under him, pushing up so Stiles could fuck him even deeper even though he was already buried deep and coming himself with wordless grunts and helpless little bucks into him until he was panting, a drop of sweat rolling off his nose onto Derek's cheek.

He lowered himself down on shaky arms and kissed him. "You. Amazing."

Derek smiled a lazy tomcat smile up at him and ruffled his hair. "You too." Then he nudged his shoulder. "You want to get a shower? Room for both of us."

Stiles smiled and kissed his nose. "Sounds like a plan." He leaned back up and eased out of him, both of them grunting when he finally slid out. "You can help me keep my balance."

Derek laughed and sat up with him, and they made their shuffling way to the spacious bathroom. The water was hot, the jets powerful, and he got Derek to let him wash his hair as well as his back. Neither of them were about to be ready for shower sex, so it was just a quiet, happy afterplay and getting clean.

He dried Derek off with one of his fluffy towels, and made it down to his feet before Derek reached down and tugged him back up into a hug.

"Derek, I'm still--"

"You're leaving, aren't you."

It wasn't even a question. Stiles' stomach twisted and he nodded, nose up under Derek's ear. "Got a job. Starts this weekend, and it's...I haven't decided on it yet."

Derek sighed and let him lean back. "Yeah, you have. And I'm glad you got something."

Stiles smiled and squeezed his hand. "No, you're not. But you're a good guy so you're not going to try and talk me out of it."

"I would if I thought it would work." Derek smiled back and grabbed a dry towel to scruff softly at his arm and shoulders. "You give me way too much credit sometimes."

"You..." He'd be an idiot if he didn't at least try. "You could come with me."

Derek snorted. "Right. Tagging along behind you like a personal assistant? What would I even do?"

"You could campaign Beaker. She's perfect, and you said yourself that you weren't sure what you wanted to do yet--"

“You’re right. I’m not sure. But going back to that…I don’t think so. I still have to finish my degree.”

Stiles blinked, but didn’t bristle at the sudden parallel to the night they’d fought so long ago. “Back to school? Really?”

“I don’t know, Stiles. Or I could stay here, do some volunteer work while I figure things out.”

Volunteer? Stiles shook his head. “Derek, come on. You know that’s not what you want.”

He didn’t expect Derek to be the one to bristle and frown at him. "But you do, right? You know that this is what I should do? Give dog shows another go? Jesus, I just found a place where I could settle for a while and figure things out. Why would I just drop that and chase something I ran away from three years ago?" Derek threw the towel in the hamper and stalked back into the bedroom, yanking on a pair of clean boxers and pulling on yesterday's jeans.

"Because I don't want to leave you, you idiot! We just started to figure things out with us and I don't want to let that go, but I have to take this stupid job if I want to keep gas in my car and food in my stomach! Not all of us have a big fat--" He closed his mouth so quickly he bit his tongue, regretting the last sentence with everything he had as Derek swung back on him.

"Not everyone has a big fat inheritance check from losing my parents, is that what you meant?" Derek's lip curled and he jabbed his finger at him. "You're lucky I don't hit _you_ this time." 

"Derek, I'm sorry. I'm so...I didn't mean it. I just..." Stiles groped for his own boxers and pulled them on.

"Don't worry about it." Derek's voice was flat, and he hated it. "You finally got into my pants, you have bills to pay, and you don't need to make sure I don't try anything stupid anymore."

"Is that...?" He grabbed at Derek's arm and swung him around before he got to the staircase. "I came out here from fucking Atlanta to see how you were doing because I missed you! Because I knew what it was like to lose someone like that and thought I could help you, you asshole! I might have wanted in your pants, because jesus christ you look like you walked out of a _GQ_ ad, but do you think I expected this?"

"Stiles--"

"No, you listen this time and no hitting. I didn't expect any of this. I like your little dog, I think this place is fucking perfect for you even after three years of not knowing you, and I'm pretty sure I'm so in love with you that I'm considering telling Chris Argent to find someone else because I _like_ it here with you and don't want to leave."

Derek didn't move, but Stiles could tell that he was looking for _something_ else and he didn't know what it was, but honesty hadn't gotten him punched yet, so...

"I like that you know how I take my coffee, and the way you don't wake up when I get out of bed. I like spending quiet mornings with Beaker and waiting for you to wake up. It feels good. It feels _right_ and I don't know what that means, but if it's enough to make me want to give up handling for a while...maybe I just want it to be enough for you to want to come back on the road. Even just to consider it."

Derek didn't say anything, but he turned away from the stairs and sat down on the bed again, shoving both hands into his hair.

"I don't know what I want, Stiles. I don't want you to leave, but I know you have to so I'm not about to stop you, but..."  He looked back up, and Stiles saw the tears welled, falling as he blinked. "I'm scared. I like this place. It's a place I can make home again, but not if I don't stay. And if I stay home, I don't know if I'll ever leave and I _don't know what to do_." 

Derek looked at his own hands and saw them shaking, and this time when he looked up at Stiles his breath quickened, but he wasn't crying. "I don't know what to do."

Stiles went to him instantly, stroking his hair back with both hands and holding his head against his chest. "Easy...just deep breaths, okay? Listen to my heart and breathe with me, okay? In, good...and out.  You're gonna be all right."

Derek wrapped his arms around him and held on tight, pulling in great gasps of air and shaking like a day-old chick.

"Easy.  Count to ten with me. In through your nose....one.  In through your nose...two.  Good. In through your nose..."

"Three," Derek whispered, still shaking but not as desperately. "Four."

"Good. Keep going." He could get him through this, just like his father had done with him.  "In through your nose..."

Stiles held him, petting his hair, until they got to ten, and Derek had stopped shaking.  "Easy," he whispered, and kissed the top of his head.  "You're all right."

Derek loosened his arms so he wasn't clinging and pressed his face into Stiles' belly. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"Felt like you were dying?"  Stiles petted his hair again and then squeezed the back of his neck. "Panic attack. I got them a lot after my mother died."

Derek squeezed him around the waist. "They really suck."

"Yeah, they do, but it definitely means you have stuff to work through before you decide whether you stay here or go on the road."  He stroked his thumb under his ear. "I won't ask you again until _you're_ ready to tell me.

Derek sniffled, the thick sound telling Stiles that he was blinking back tears.  "But you're still going."

Stiles nodded, then answered when Derek didn't look up at him. "Yeah. In a couple of days, but that doesn't mean that we won't see each other because there's a webcam on that ridiculously techie computer.  We can still talk, and you can talk to someone that's not me to help you work things through."

Derek looked up at him. "You mean a professional."

Stiles nodded down at him again. "Trust me, it's...I didn't like counselors when Mom died because all I wanted was Dad because he _got_ me? But that put a lot on him and screwed things up between us for a long time."  He still had the number to his therapist in his wallet. "You're not alone, and you don't need someone from our crazy dog world to help you get through what you're feeling."  He smiled, and stroked his cheek with his thumb this time. "And that'll make our phone sex a lot less awkward when we don't have to schedule therapy around it."

Derek laughed, which was what Stiles wanted to see, and he hugged him around the shoulders and kissed his hair again. "I'm sorry I said that about your money."

Derek shook his head and kissed the spot over his heart. "It's okay. We were both mad."  He drew back and let him go this time, falling back on the bed and pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "What is my stupid life anymore?"

Stiles heard a little whine from downstairs and nudged his knee. "It's a little dog wondering when someone's going to come pay attention to her."  He grabbed for his own jeans and pulled them on. "Come on. Put a shirt on and come downstairs like a human. I'll take her out for a potty run and we'll watch a movie or something, okay? We'll watch _Best in Show_ and try to point out all the ways it's accurate."

Derek chuckled again and nodded. "Sounds good. I'll be down in a few."

Stiles went downstairs and picked up the wriggling puppy who thankfully hadn't messed in her x-pen.  "Daddy's okay," he whispered to her. "He just has some awful things on his mind, so you're gonna need to distract him if he starts crying again, okay? I'm counting on you here."

Beaker licked his chin eagerly, little paws waving as they headed out the door for her walkies.  He'd call Argent back in a couple days and take the job, and research a couple of therapists for Derek to call so at least he was on the way to getting help by the time he left.  "I really love him, Beaker, and I'm pretty sure he loves me too, so we'll both look out for him. What do you say?"

Beaker licked his nose and squirmed to be put down once they were outside, racing for her pee spot to sniff and circle.  "Yeah, that's what I thought."

* * *

Derek sat back against the headboard and checked his hair one more time. It was weird staring at his own face on the computer screen, but it was almost time for Stiles to call and he didn't want to get caught away from the computer.

As if his thoughts had triggered it, the alert jangled and he saw Stiles’ smiling icon.  He clicked the 'answer' button and laughed because, instead of Stiles’ face, a snuffling black nose filled the screen, the puffs of breath loud through the speakers.

"Hunter!" Stiles called, and the Malinois backed off and sat, panting as Stiles shifted so the webcam was pointed at him instead of the dog.  "Hey dork. Meet Hunter.  Hunter, meet my dorky boyfriend."

Derek blushed; he still liked the word 'boyfriend' when they talked about each other. "Hey Stiles."

Hunter sat up straight, head tilting wildly at the OTHER PERSON coming from the computer. "You hear that, Hunter? No pet names for me yet. It's kind of pathetic. _Plotz._ "  The dog promptly disappeared off-screen with a jingle of tags.  "One of the benefits of a working show dog. I just had to learn a little bit of German."

Derek grinned and wished he could touch him. "How's he doing in the ring?"

"He's doing all right." Stiles shrugged. "We're still working some kinks out.  He's worse than the terriers with his crazy brain and likes doing things his own way when he can get away with it. He's hand-shy too, so I have to show his bite and keep a close eye on him while the judge is examining him while still keeping _my_ cool."  He smiled. "He loves his hot dogs, though, so that helps."

"I bet it does."  Derek took a sip of the coffee he'd made.  "Is he okay in the Jeep?"

Stiles grinned. "The Argents actually gave me a car to use, a big-ass Expedition. Climate controlled, secondary generator if I have to leave him in it for any length of time.  I actually slept in it with him the first night because it was more comfortable than a hotel and nobody was going to try and steal it with an attack dog in it."

Derek laughed and shook his head. "You're nuts, you know that?"

"Hey, I know how to save some green when I'm on the road." Stiles squinted a little at the screen. "You look good...no dark circles. Hair washed. You didn't forget how to shower after I left, that's good."

Derek rolled his eyes. "I'm coming up with some great pet names as you make fun of me. I can translate them to German if you want your dog to hear them."

Stiles smiled again. "There you are. Did you talk to one of the people I wrote down for you?"

Derek smiled back at him and nodded. "I did.  The second one on your list...Morrell?  We've met a couple times now. I feel pretty comfortable with her, especially after that Harris guy."  Derek shuddered, remembering that nightmare of a first session and the scratch of his pen on his notebook and how he barely looked up from it while he asked his questions.  "Anyway. Yeah. She seems good. Asked a _lot_ of good questions and answered the ones you had me ask her."

"Hey, I know from shitty counselors. Remind me to tell you about that Lecter guy. Do _not_ have dinner with him."

Derek laughed and flipped the webcam the bird. "Asshole. You're a funny guy."  But it was nice, being able to talk about the counseling and not have it stay heavy.  "It's good to see you."  And, because it was true. "I miss you."

"I miss you too--hey, who's there with you? Is that Beaker?"  Immediately his voice went up half an octave as Beaker woke up from her nap and shuffled into view. "Hey sweetie! Who's a good little girl?"

Beaker whined and sniffed at the speakers; Derek petted her and pointed to the screen. "See? There he is." "There _you_ are! Look at that topknot, it's getting so pretty," he crooned to her. "Are you taking care of him like I told you?"

"She is," Derek said, cuddling her close. "She bought me a case of beer when we ran out and she's better than you at _Call of Duty_."

Stiles laughed. "I'll beat both your kill ratios when I get back there. That's a promise."  He shifted, and the camera tilted wildly to settle with Stiles' face lying sideways. "That's a little better.  Been a long day sitting up." He yawned. "So. Have you been getting out?"

Derek nodded. "I have. There's a little cafe not far from Ms. Morrell's office, so I have a cup of coffee and a brownie there after the session.  She asked me to bring Beaker for our last session, and she got a little doggie scone from the woman at the counter."

"That's a whole new meaning to therapy dog. You showed the counter girl your 'He's Taken' tattoo, right? We agreed before I left that was going right on your forehead."

"God, you're so controlling. Maybe I should rethink my options now that you're out of state."  Derek shook his head. "Besides, I'm pretty sure she doesn't swing my way. She loved Beaker though. Said she could come back anytime."

"They'd let that sweet face into the Pentagon without a cavity search."  Stiles smiled at her, then patted the bed. "Come meet Beaker, furball."

Derek smiled as Hunter's face appeared at an extreme closeup again, as he nudged between Stiles and the computer, and the microphone was suddenly filled with the sniff-sniff-sniff of the dog's nose.  "No heavy breathing," Derek said. "Beaker's too young for obscene phone calls."

Stiles petted Hunter and nudged the laptop again so it was easier to see him on the screen. "He's a good dog. Intentions completely honorable. We're still working on keeping his attention. Not even the terriers were this food-focused, but he still startles at applause and children."

"Not socialized all that well?"  Derek frowned. "That's a tough row to hoe." He'd seen more than one poorly-socialized dog's show career ruined by one trauma or bad encounter with a judge or another dog or even one of the spectators.  He also knew how careful Stiles' family had been with the wolfhounds, and how his own family had prided themselves on family-raised and socialized puppies.

"He was sick through the first few months, so I'm making up for a lot of lost time. He likes having a job. I'm just trying to show him that sometimes relaxing is a job too."  Stiles smiled down at the dog's pricked ears. "Isn't it, Hunter?"

Hunter shoved forward and licked his face, pushing Stiles back. "Hey!" Stiles yelped, but he was laughing as well as he pushed him back, holding his muzzle and kissing him between the eyes. "Don't tell Argent you're a kissy-face."

Derek smiled again; they were working things out fine.  "He's gorgeous too. I bet he's fantastic in the ring when he's on his game."

"He really is.  You'll see when Argent posts pictures of us with Winners ribbons and finishing his championship. I'll let you know when they're up on the website."  Stiles stroked Hunter's ears and the dog seemed to settle. "Good boy."

Derek scritched at Beaker's neck. "We miss you. Beaker keeps watching the door when she hears a car pull into the lot."

Stiles' smile faltered a little, but what could they really do, right?  "I miss you guys too. I'll get this guy finished and maybe to the Big Show if things go well but...whatever you decide to do, I'll see you guys in Cali whenever I get a break. That's a promise."

"Sounds like a plan."  Derek felt good about it, too. The indecision no longer felt like it would kill him either way, and that visceral fear he felt just thinking about it had already faded just knowing that he was getting closer to getting help. "Thanks, too. For getting me out of my head that morning, and pointing me in the right direction."

"It's why I came in the first place."  Stiles shifted again and kept petting Hunter. "I had my Dad when I needed that kind of help, and I knew...I just knew that you shouldn't be alone with all that in your head."

Derek smiled, and had to look down for bit to blink back the tears. "And the sex?"

"Total bonus. I miss the shower jets more than the sex."

"You're a terrible boyfriend. I can't believe I let you talk me into a long-distance thing. You're lucky Beaker likes you." Derek sighed and relaxed back against the headboard.  "And it's officially too awkward with Hunter right there to do any kind of what one of my college friends used to call 'camming'."

Stiles laughed. "Your friend was a camboy?"

"Don't get me started. Once he showed me how he used stage makeup to look barely old enough to drive. I asked him why he did it and he said that exploiting pervs was paying his tuition and then some."

"Okay, if I get you started on that next time, will you tell me more about these so-called college friends? I can't believe you never told me about them."  Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. "Or did you read a young adult novel and make them up?"

"Good night, Stiles. And good luck at the specialty tomorrow."  Derek smiled, kissed two of his fingers and held them towards the camera.

"Thanks, man.  Good luck with your cafe counter girl and therapy."

Derek clicked the icon to end the call, still smiling.  He missed him, a _lot_ , but at least now he didn't feel as raw as he did when faced with Stiles leaving before.  He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Show his bite" - A judge has to examine how the dog's teeth fit together and if they meet the breed standard. Not all dogs react well to having their mouth handled by a stranger, so handlers will offer to lift the dog's lips to show the judge its teeth instead.
> 
> Specialty - A dog show dedicated to a single breed. Westminster is an all-breed show.


	7. Beaker's Debut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Beaker have their first show.

_June:_

Derek nosed the big RV into its designated space and turned off the engine, heading to the back where Beaker had her paws up on the grate of her kennel. "Ready for your big debut, sweetie?" he asked her as he lifted her out. "Here's hoping we both are." He brought her outside and let her sniff at the grass and looked around at the small fleet of similar RVs.

He'd had a long three years off the circuit while he was at college. After the fire, there were the house-training disasters of a new puppy, then the even larger nightmare of Beaker's first heat where he wondered if he wanted to do this at all. But even Doc Deaton had commented on Beaker's conformation and excellent health, and what a loss it would be if he didn't at least try to show her. The dreams about the fire returned with a vengeance after that, and he couldnt thank his therapist enough for the work theyd both done to get him through those few weeks. The tools shed given him to help him cope with them between sessions had worked wonders. She'd been the second one to suggest showing Beaker, but she'd had different reasons for her thoughts. _It isn't about carrying on the family business,_ Ms. Morell had told him. _It's about giving you something familiar to do while you figure out what_ you _want to do._

He could campaign her for a year, get her titled as a champion, and see where they were after that, right? He had more than enough insurance money after everything had settled with his parents' multiple policies. He bought the RV and supplies and started checking out show schedules; it wasn't long before he set his rent up to auto-debit and he was on his way out of town.

And here they were, about to enter their first Specialty and really get a look at their competition. It was a big day for them both. He wasn't a Junior Handler anymore, and Beaker wasn't one among a small armada of Hale dogs.

"Okay, baby. Let's get you ready." She licked his chin as he carried her, the grooming table, and his kit over to the pavilion to get her groomed.

She wasn't quite at her full coat yet, but at her age category nobody was expecting it. He'd worked hard to get her used to standing, sitting, and sleeping on the grooming table, and she stayed like a champ as he curled and combed the little topknot to perfection. Her sweet face made him smile; he gave her a bit of liver treat as the other groomers and handlers looked him over. He recognized a few faces, but at three years off the road and his junior handling days behind him, he felt like a newcomer again.

"Didn't think you'd be back, Hale."

Derek felt his shoulders tighten before he turned and met his eyes. "Hey, Jackson. How've you been?" The only reason he cared enough to be polite was to see if he'd face him in the Winners Class later.

"Winning, but that's no real change. I'm handling for the Martins now."

Of course he was handling for the Martins. Of course. _You can do this. Stiles won't blame you if you want to go home. Or something._

Jackson looked down his nose at Beaker, who was waiting for more liver treats. "Who does she belong to? I didn't see any new exhibitors on the premium list."

"She's mine." He combed her tail up over her back to keep his hands busy. "She's one of Honeydew's pups."

"I thought your dogs were all dead."

Derek closed his eyes and set the comb down slowly. "Clearly not all of them. Don't you have a designer handbag to get ready?"

Jackson snorted and shook his head. "Sorry your big comeback is going to involve losing to me. See you in the ring."

Derek unclenched his hands from the edge of the grooming table as Jackson walked away. He concentrated on getting Beaker groomed for her appearance in the ring. When she was already ready to snap at him after he combed her again and again, he put on his jacket and carried her over to the ring when the puppy class was called.

"Okay, baby, this is it. Let's make Honeydew proud." He set her down, adjusted his number, and paraded into the ring with the other handlers to the sound of polite applause. There were over twenty Shih Tzus there, all of them impeccably groomed and kitted out until even their young coats floated when they trotted around the ring. Beaker went like a champ, head high even without the show leash tugging her up, looking around at her competition but not lunging, and stacking herself with just a quick toss of the liver treat lure.

"Good girl," he called to her, and smiled as the judge walked by them all. His job was to be invisible, to showcase Beaker and her strong points. Her topknot was impeccable, her eyes bright and the white of her face as white as he could get it. And now they waited, near the middle of the pack when it came to examination order. He smirked a little; at least Jackson was after them, and had to keep Prada II calm when he obviously wanted to sniff after the other dogs as they walked by.

Dog after dog was lifted onto the table, the judge calm and thorough as he felt along their sides and hips, checked their soundness and their bite, and had them all gait once around, please. Each dog had their own contingent here except for Derek, and they clapped and cheered their dogs when it was their turn. Derek tried to keep his excitement up so Beaker would stay animated, but more and more it was stress that tugged at his belly and made him want to just pick her up and go home.

No, he could do this. Beaker deserved his best at her debut in the show world. He could do this for her, if not for himself or for Stiles.

"Number two oh four. Come on up."

Derek swallowed and brought Beaker forward and up onto the exam table.

She was perfect, standing calm and only interested in her liver treats as the judge looked her over, smoothing his hands down her sides, hefting her hips and measuring the length of her ears. "Good dog," he murmured, then nodded to Derek. "All right. Down and back please."

Derek smiled and brought her down with a quick brush-brush to get her coat into place. He stood tall and walked with her down to the end of the ring...

Or rather, halfway to the end of the ring, because Beaker sidestepped towards him trying to avoid something in the grass. He tried to adjust his own stride but the early morning grass still had its dew and his dress shoes slipped. He stumbled, then lurched forward, and when he fell all he tried to do was avoid falling on her and HOLY FUCK IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING TO ME?

And then he was down amid a roar of laughter and the happy barking of his dog, who thought that they were going to tussle like they did at home and was frisking around him.

He tried his best to gather up his composure as he gathered himself up off the grass. His white shirt was streaked with grass. His jacket was torn along one arm seam and he could only hope that his pants weren't split. He picked up Beaker's leash and calmed her down, finishing the gait with a sigh and much more care in his steps as he walked back to the judge. He could see the suppressed laughter in his eyes as well as he stacked Beaker again in front of him. Everyone in the crowd had phones out, recording the whole thing.

"Thank you, sir. Go ahead and take your place." The judge coughed instead of laughing, but Derek heard what he heard. He went back to his spot in line where Jackson was still snickering.

"Welcome back, Hale."

Derek ignored him as best he could, and kept Beaker on point and alert. He straightened his jacket and brushed the grass off his pants. He wanted to punch Jackson. He wanted to cry with the frustration and go sell the stupid RV he bought to the first person walking by and why wasn't this over yet?

Prada II, of course, was perfect. Jackson shot him a smile as he gaited past him, and kept smiling at him as the other dogs were examined and gaited. The only thing that could possibly make this day worse is if it rained, and he took a precautionary glance at the sky just to make sure that wasn't going to happen.

He wasn't sure how he held it together through the rest of the class, but he heard more than a few chuckles as he gaited with the group at the end. It was a futile exercise for him; he knew that Beaker was already disqualified because of his blunder, but it would be an even bigger one to leave the ring and compound the breach of protocol. He even waited with the other handlers to shake hands with Jackson for Prada II's win.

"Congratulations."

"Better luck next time, if there is one after that."

_Up yours._

There were a few handlers who clapped him on the back and had sympathetic words for him. "That's tough luck," the handler of the second place dog said. "She's a real beauty. If you can keep your feet under you, she's got a great future. Have you thought about a professional handler?"

Derek thanked her and scooped up Beaker before any photos were taken. He had to change his clothes. "You did good, baby," he said to her as they walked quickly back through the staging area. The sympathetic looks were already too cloying, and reminded him too much of the funeral.

By the time they got to the RV he was barely holding it together. He set her down and slipped her leash off, then joined her on the floor.

The seam of his pants ripped when he sat down. He bleated out a little laugh through the tears and the quickened breath at that as he fed Beaker the last of the liver treats one by one. Focusing on her, and on things that made her happy when he was feeling this way helped avert the squeeze in his chest and the utter dread that occasionally took over. Even his therapist had encouraged him to tend to Beaker to calm him down. _She'll enjoy the attention, and she'll help distract you from your panic. If you do that often enough, she may even learn to anticipate these panic attacks and distract you herself._

"Good girl," he whispered to her as she wriggled into his lap and licked his chin. "That's a good girl."

There was a knock on the trailer door. He looked up with a frown and shouted. "If that's Jackson, you can fuck right off!"

The trailer door opened, and a familiar dark-haired face poked in. "Derek?"

Derek blinked. "Scott?"

Scott grinned and came into the trailer, and Beaker trotted up to him to sniff at his shoes. "I thought that was you! How are you doing?" He stooped down to let Beaker sniff his fingers, then petted her carefully on the back so he didn't mess up her topknot.

Derek snorted and stood, gesturing to his grass-stained shirt and hoping that he didn't have to turn around at any point during this encounter. "I gotta admit, I've had better days." Scott's open smile and happiness to see him again pushed the last of the panic back down. "How are you doing?"

Scott stepped in to hug him, grass stains and all. "It's good to see you, man. I'm doing fine. Working with the vet today. He let me do triage and observe when he found out I was taking pre-vet classes." He took a better look at his shirt and torn jacket. "What happened?"

Derek shook his head. "I faceplanted when I was gaiting her. I don't know how many people got it on video. I'm contemplating not even going back to get her grooming table and just driving off."

Scott winced. "That sucks. Remember when Jilly decided that she'd rather go after a bird that landed in the ring? It happens to the best of us, I guess." He winced again. "Oh shit, and Jackson was showing Prada--"

"Saw the whole thing, yeah." Derek sighed. "At least I don't have to stick around for Winners, right?" Maybe he could get an early jump on the road. They had a show one state over and he could get there early if he left in the next couple hours. _Wait a second..._ "There's no beagle event nearby. What are you doing at this show?"

Scott busied himself with petting Beaker and avoided his gaze. "She's so pretty. She looks just like Kermit, don't you? Don't you look just like your daddy?"

Derek gritted his teeth. "Stiles."

Scott looked up. "He told me, yeah, but I wanted to come. I hadn't seen you since you left for school, and when I heard you were coming back...don't get mad at him."

"But it was his idea, right? Dammit, I don't need someone checking up on me. I told him that." He pulled his jacket off and snarled as more threads popped on the torn seam. "Or someone else enabling him."

"Stiles has people reporting on his Dad's diet when they're apart. I don't think anyone can stop him with that stuff." Scott sat down on the couch. "He wanted to know how you did today."

"You mean he wanted to make sure I didn't freak out and quit?" He yanked the accordion door closed so he had some privacy to get out of his torn pants.

"It wasn't like that!" Scott called from the living area. "He told me to take pictures of you with Beaker's ribbon today! And tell him how you looked in the suit because he wasn't there when you picked it out."

Derek pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that he realized was one of the ones Stiles left at his place before he took the job with the Argents. He sat on the bed, angry but with no focus for it, now that he'd heard that Stiles was proud rather than worried.

"He was really excited and just wanted someone to tell him how you did. I swear there was nothing about checking up on you."

Beaker scratched on the accordion door, and he couldn't resist her entreaty that had nothing behind it but wanting to be with him. He slid the door open and came out to sit down with Scott. Beaker leaped up lightly to sit with him. He stared down at his hands and shook his head. "He was so glad to hear that I was coming back. What am I supposed to tell him? That I don't think I could have embarrassed myself more than if I'd mooned the judge and skipped off singing?"

He braced himself for more sympathy, but when Scott didn't say anything he looked up and saw him, fist at his mouth, face red as he tried to hold in laughter. "You're picturing it now, aren't you?"

Scott dropped the pretense and lost it, shoulders shaking and his grin so sunny Derek couldn't help but smile with him. "Please, please let me know if you're going to do that at the next show. Especially if it's Harris judging. Remember him?"

Derek puffed a soft laugh through his nose. "I remember how he chewed Erica out for having gum in her mouth when she was in the ring." He smiled. "And how we all had gum for our Junior Handler group photo."

"We all made sure we were blowing bubbles when they snapped the picture, and he didn't know until the picture was in the local paper the next day." Scott smiled at him, and reached over to nudge his arm. "We all had each other's backs back then. So maybe some of us want to have your back now, okay?"

Derek nodded, calmer now after the laughter and coming up with the truly worst case scenario. Accidents happened. He just had to take care not to make any more. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it." He nodded to Beaker, who was already starting to doze in his lap. "You want to put her down for a nap and go grab something to eat? There's a food truck with some killer gyros out there."

Derek's stomach growled as an answer, and he smiled and carried Beaker to her padded kennel bed. "Sounds good."

"And you have to tell me about these shower jets. Stiles wouldn't shut up about them the last time we talked."

"Oh my god, is he still going on about that?"

Before Scott opened the door, he turned, and Derek found himself wrapped in a warm, tight hug. "I'm sorry about everything with your family, and I really am glad to see you. If you need to talk or anything, I listen pretty good." He squeezed again. "And I can get you some anti-skid stuff for your shoes, I can help with that too."

Derek smiled and ruffled his hair at the last part. "I can handle my own shoes, thanks." He didn't have thank him for the first bit. "Show me to gyros and I want to hear about your vet stories."

* * *

 

After lunch, Scott had to go back to help with the veterinary tent; warmer weather and short nosed dogs tended to mix rather badly and, though all of the handlers were conscious of that fact, sometimes heat stroke could come on quieter than usual. He left Derek with a hug and another concerned teasing about his balance.

Derek walked around the three rings that were set up for each class of competition and watched the happy, trundling gait of the Shih Tzus as they strutted their stuff for judges and audience alike.

Soon, though, he found his gaze lingering on the people instead of the dogs. The happy faces of owners and spectators, the squeals from children when they saw the puppies some of the breeders had brought with them, and the low-level bustle of activity from the grooming areas just outside the rings all combined into one big whole.

After a while of watching them, however, it was what he _didn't_ see that struck him. He didn't see unhappy people, other than momentary unhappiness if their favorite dog didn't place. He saw proud handlers with their dogs, and remembered how there was a time when he _wanted_ to be a professional handler. He wasn't sure when that desire started to falter, and he'd done really well in college and wouldn't trade his experiences for anything, but even after today's faceplant and Jackson's smugness both in and out of the ring he remembered how excited he'd been once he was back in there with her.

Maybe he could do this.

"Come on, we're gonna be late!"

Derek turned to see two boys with two well-groomed Shih Tzus trotting for the ring closest to him. The dark haired boy was hanging back, looking at the snow cone stand, and the black boy ran back with a sigh and started tugging at his sleeve. "Jason, come ON. You'll either spill it on your shirt or you'll go into the ring with your lips and fingers all blue."

"I don't always get the blue ones," the straggler complained, but followed along behind his friend anyway.

"Right, and I don't wear lucky socks when I go into the ring. Let's go!"

Derek followed them to the ring, where it looked as if they had a Junior Handling class lining up to go in. All of them looked excited or happy or nervous, but none of them looked like they didn't want to be there. The two boys joined the line and adjusted their numbers, combing at their dogs' coats with the steel combs they had in their pockets.

He stayed and watched as the kids filed in, all of them exchanging smiles with each other and then kneeling up tall as the judge walked down the line. Watching the two boys was like watching him and Stiles, only these two weren't trying to make each other laugh while they were waiting their turn at the examination table like they used to. He watched the judge not only examine the dogs, but point out the things that the young handlers could correct to more effectively display their dogs in the best way possible.

Through his therapy with Ms. Morrell, he'd been able to tease apart what had driven him away from the dog world. Even though the reason had been as normal as it could be, now that he was back in this world, he knew he was a different person than the one that had left. Maybe he would go back to school one day (he knew he loved math and engineering), but he could give this campaign his best shot and see how far he and Beaker could go. She deserved that as much as he deserved the shot at proving it to himself. His family and their dogs had made it to Westminster, but they'd never managed to win Best of Breed to get them on the big green carpet.

He could do this.

He clapped for the junior handlers as loudly as their parents did, and grinned when he saw Jason the snow cone lover win his class and the way all the other kids congratulated him with the enthusiasm of friends instead of the politeness of acquaintances and strangers.

"Excuse me, Mr. Hale?"

Derek turned and saw one of the show stewards waiting for him. "Yes...can I help you? Is everything all right?" He looked instantly in the direction of his RV. "Is my dog--"

"Your dog is fine, sir. I just have this for you, from Judge Blake." The steward offered an envelope with his first name on it.

Derek took it, confused. "Thank you."

"Have a good day, sir."

Derek opened the envelope as the steward faded back into the murmuring crowd, and saw a handwritten note inside.

_Derek,_

_I remember your family and their dogs, and I was devastated by the news of their loss, as I'm sure you were as well. Please don't be discouraged by what happened today. Based on what I saw today, that little girl has a very bright future, and she would have won her class today if it weren't for the tumble._

_I hope to see her name in the breed club newsletters very soon, as you both follow in your family's footsteps. They'd be proud to see you now._

_Take care, and good luck,_

_Daniel Blake_

Derek blinked back tears and tucked the note into his pocket as the whole group of junior handlers ran past him for the snow cone cart. He headed back to the RV with a smile and a new burst of determination.

He could definitely do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stack/Stacking: Posing the dog for the judge so the dog's paws are placed properly. Handlers stack their dog for the judge, but it's important for the dog to stack themselves as well. Most dogs just have to stack with all four paws squared up, but some breeds require a different stance.
> 
> Gaiting: The handler trots the dog away from the judge, then back to the judge, so the judge can evaluate the dog in motion.


	8. Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek meet on the road.

_August_ :

"Stiles!"

Stiles whipped his head around at the familiar voice, letting out a whoop as Derek wove his stupid gorgeous way through the crowd towards them. Hunter growled as a nearby dog strayed too close, and Stiles clucked to him and fed him bits of hot dog until the dog went away. "We're getting better, big guy. Look! It's our dorky boyfriend Derek!"

Derek stopped and waited, smiling at them both. "Let me know when it's safe to hug you. God, he's gorgeous in person."

"Isn't he? And the dog's pretty good looking too." Stiles handed Derek a bit of hot dog. "Go ahead and feed it to him and it should be safe to hug."

Hunter stretched his nose out to Derek's hand and he took the treat politely, giving ground for Derek to come closer. "Good boooy, Hunter! Okay, it's safe to hug."

Derek's hugs were the all-time best, just under dad hugs, and he hugged back just as tightly. "You didn't say you were coming to this show!"

"I wanted to surprise you. This is Beaker's last major. I'm hoping to finish her today." He drew back and squeezed the back of his neck. Stiles wanted to kiss him, but he had just a few minutes before he had to get into the ring.

"Stay and watch us. This is Hunter's finishing today too, if we do well in there." He nodded to the Argents, who were watching curiously. Chris and Victoria were co-owners, but Hunter was their daughter Allison's dog. She stood with her parents with occasional glances towards the veterinary area, where Scott was also stealing glances at her. _Saps. Both of them._

Derek smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "Break a leg. I have a couple hours after, I can show you the rig."

"That's right, the one you sent pictures and can sleep ten but it's just you and the princess." Stiles grinned at him. "It's good to see you. I'll be back in a bit!"

He adjusted his number and joined the line of dogs and handlers as they queued up to enter the ring. Hunter required a steady supply of hot dogs when he was in line just in case he got sniffed at when he wasn't ready for it or stared at for too long, which he never liked. There were days he missed his placid Clancy or gentle Oswin, but Hunter had a happy sweetness when his stress levels were down, and he clearly loved Allison, who had also worked hard to make shows something to look forward to instead of something to fear. All Stiles had to do was project the right confidence so Hunter wouldn't feel like he had to be on his guard.

Stiles took a deep breath, let it out, and smiled down at Hunter. "Good boy. Let's go!"

He jogged into the ring with Hunter to the sound of applause as the spectators clapped for their respective favorites. Hunter kept his head up, his gaze sharp, and when they came to a stop Stiles barely had to touch him before he stacked himself nicely, a result of lots of training sessions and hot dogs reinforcing where his feet should be.

He looked around the ring and saw the 'usual suspects' that had journeyed with him from specialty to specialty. There was a tall, salt-and-pepper haired gentleman with Bear, a shorter woman with Chelsea, and a woman about his age with Greta. The rest were strangers, and nothing to really worry about. His biggest competition was Bear, but Bear seemed out of sorts today, and kept glancing over at the man in glasses that had come with his handler today.

"Good boy," he murmured to Hunter, offering him a bit of hot dog here and there to keep him waiting calmly. They'd had an incident a few shows ago with a judge where Hunter had swung his head around and bumped his wrist, and while the close mouthed threat wasn't enough for the judge to disqualify him, he'd heard the soft cluck of his tongue that let him know he wouldn't be advancing that day. He would have finished him already if it hadn't been for that, and Argent hadn't been pleased. _I'm paying you to make sure my dog is ready for this. I expect to see him finished in the next month, or I may need to rethink my options._

He took a deep breath and let it out, letting the irritation flow out with it. If he took that kind of energy up to the judge, they were cooked for sure. He glanced over to ringside and saw Chris Argent watching, but he also saw Derek smiling at him. He smiled back at him, but only for a moment before he returned his attention to Hunter. They were up next.

He moved up to the exam area while the other dog was gaiting and stacked Hunter carefully, and by the time the judge returned they were ready.

"Good morning," the judge said, and Stiles smiled at him. "Can you show me his bite?"

Stiles lifted Hunter's lips so the judge could see the way his teeth met, then moved around to keep the hot dogs coming as the judge looked him over. Hunter stopped nibbling at the hot dog only once, as the judge's hand passed down his hips, but didn't swing around this time, and Stiles smiled down at him when the judge finally straightened.

"Down and back please, thank you."

He jogged down the ring with Hunter, tugging his head up and enjoying the applause from both the Argents and from one very enthusiastic fan, and when he got back to the judge he tossed the hot dog in his hand for Hunter to free stack. They'd been working hard on this, and Hunter did it beautifully, ears head up and all four feet square and balanced. _Good boy!_

"Thank you, return to your spot."

Stiles jogged back to his place in line and ruffled Hunter's ears. "That's a good boy!" he said softly, and gave him a bit of cheese, which he knew was Hunter's absolute favorite. There were only two dogs after him, and he would save the rest of the cheese for that final looking over right before the judge made his decision.

He looked over at Derek and grinned as he saw him flash a thumbs up. "See that, Hunter? Derek thought you did _great._ " Hunter swiped his tongue up the side of his face and panted hot dog breath at him as they waited...and then the last dog was done. "Okay, boy, let's show him your stuff again. Stack up!"

He held Hunter's head up carefully, cheese at the ready as the judge walked slowly down the line. He paused at Bear, and moved him to the front of the line; the man in glasses applauded excitedly. He paused at Chelsea, and moved her up behind Bear, and Stiles sent a silent plea for Hunter to just hold the stack, good boy...

"Up to the front of the line, please." The judge beckoned to him, and Stiles tried not to leap for joy as they moved to their new spot, and he gave Hunter the cheese with a smile. They moved out eagerly when the judge had them all gait around, and when the judge pointed at Hunter ("One"), Bear ("Two") and Chelsea ("Three"). "Well done, everyone."

Stiles kept a tight grip on Hunter's leash as the other handlers came to congratulate him and shake his hand. After the pictures were snapped, he came out of the ring to more smiles from the Argents as Allison knelt to pet her dog. "Who's my good boy?" She said as he licked her face happily. "Was that it? He's a champion now?"

"That was his finishing move, yeah," Stiles said, smiling down at her and Hunter. "And he's not done yet. We have to go back to be judged with the herding group tomorrow."

"You two looked great out there," Chris said, and offered his hand. "Congratulations."

"Hunter has a great attitude in and out of the ring. I'm just glad people get to see it first hand." Stiles shook Victoria's hand as well. "I'll have to come see him when he's in the working ring sometime. I bet that's something to see."

Chris laughed and looked down at Hunter and Allison. "Nobody's going to mess with her if he's on the other end of the leash."

"Daa-aaad," Allison said as she stood up. "I'm pretty sure the krav maga classes will take care of that too."

Stiles caught sight of Derek over Victoria's shoulder and smiled. "Okay, it's time for Hunter to have a break and a nap. I'm going to put him in the van and I'll see you later?"

"Have dinner with us tonight. I'll text you when we're ready." Chris nodded as Hunter nudged Stiles' hand for the last of the cheese.

Stiles watched them head into the small crowd of spectators and turned for the van. Derek fell into step beside him and squeezed his shoulder.

"You were amazing in there. You really knew how to get his attention _and_ the judge's."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," Stiles agreed. "I might have poured it on a little more for my favorite audience."

"What, your employers?"

"Asshole. Keep that up and I'll sleep in the van with Hunter until I go back for the group."

They reached the van and Stiles put Hunter in his crate with some water and the air conditioning on, the extra generator in the van keeping things cool for him. "So, show me this eyesore you call an RV."

"First things first." Derek grinned and wrapped him in a hug, kissing the corner of his mouth as they stood behind the van. "It's good to see you."

Stiles closed his eyes and soaked it in, hugging him back with a happy sigh and an answering kiss. "I missed you."

"Missed you too." Derek squeezed him once more and backed off so they could weave their way through the maze of cars and vans and RVs until they reached the big silver rig he'd seen in the pictures.

"Jesus, it's bigger in person. You _drive_ this thing?"

Derek laughed. "It's not something you want to parallel park, but it has a full grooming station inside if there's bad weather, and I save on hotels because I have a bedroom with me."

Stiles heard barking from inside and laughed. "Beaker! Who's my little fuzzball?"

"Not so little anymore," Derek said as he opened the door, and Stiles marveled at the silky sophisticate that leaped into Derek's arms.

"Look at her! She's a proper little show queen now." He scratched under her chin so as not to disturb her topknot and leaned in for her to lick his nose. "Look at you, little princess. I bet you have a pillow with tassels on it for your very own bed." She'd grown in the months since he'd seen her, her coat still puppy fluffy, but this was the first time he'd seen her groomed for a show.

"She's been doing really well too," Derek said, and stepped back to let Stiles come up into the rig. "Thankfully she doesn't get car sick. Usually she's up in the passenger seat with me."

"Holy shit..." Stiles looked around at the very well-appointed living area as Derek put Beaker on the grooming table. "It's like a TARDIS in here. Suddenly my sleeping cushion in the van makes me feel like a hobo."

"Yeah, well keeping this baby gassed up isn't exactly easy on the wallet." He brushed at Beaker's coat, but smiled over at Stiles. "And that van's a pretty big step up from your Jeep."

"That jeep is a classic. If I ever stopped showing dogs, I could probably show that car and still make a killing." He moved up behind Derek and slid his arms around him. "Mm...missed this a lot."

Derek leaned back into his hug. "Me too," he said. "If you want to stay with me tonight, there's room for Hunter's crate in the living area?"

"Very, very tempting, but I have to see what the Argents want to do after dinner." He kissed the back of Derek's neck and nuzzled behind his ear. "I could ease some tension for you now if you have time?" He stroked one hand down over his hip and trailed his fingers along his fly.

Derek groaned and shivered in his arms. "Can't...I only have another ten minutes before she has to be in the ring."

Stiles smiled and resumed hugging. "Can't have you going into the ring with a hard-on," he said. "Not if you want to bring a champion back out."

Derek turned and kissed him, one hand coming up to cup his face. "We'll celebrate tonight if we can." He kissed him again, and Stiles wondered how he'd gone this long without those kisses that felt like Derek poured his entire soul into them.

"Count on it." Stiles stepped back before further contact aggravated the boner issue. "Now get that little princess ready for her appearance. I'll just sit back on your obscenely big couch and watch."

Derek laughed and resumed his grooming while Beaker lay patiently on the table. "Did you see Scott and Allison today? They're kind of adorable."

"They're disgusting is what you mean. They've been together since just after you left for school." Stiles watched Derek's hands and face as he groomed her with a purpose. He'd never really seen him get ready for a show before, and he cataloged every deft movement as much as he enjoyed this new facet of him.

"We'd be just as bad if we get half a chance. Scott's already told me that you won't shut up about me when you two talk."

"Scott's a filthy traitor who doesn't deserve my friendship. You should hear him go on about Allison." But he smiled as he said it; their conversations tended to have 'amnesty' time, where each was allowed to get sappy and sweet about their respective partners with no snark in response.

"Filthy traitor, right." Derek glanced at the clock and clipped Beaker's leash to the table. "Stay, baby." She didn't move as he pulled off the t-shirt and reached for the button-down shirt hung up on the wall hook.

"Jesus, do you have a bowflex in here too? How do you keep those abs?" Stiles looked on unabashed until Derek pulled on the shirt and buttoned it up.

"There's a pull-up bar across the bedroom doorway, and there's room for sit-ups every morning." Derek grinned at him. "The rig also came with a personal trainer in the compartment under your seat."

"You're a funny guy. Do you practice these jokes on Beaker and see what doesn't make her throw up?"

"Keep that up and I'll get dressed behind closed doors." Derek winked at him and turned, bending over to push his jeans down, and Stiles laughed in shock as Derek actually _wagged his ass at him_.

He reached over and smacked it with another laugh and stood up from the couch. "I'll let you get back to your before show ritual." He kissed Derek when he turned back with a smile. "See you ringside."

Derek smiled. "See you there." He opened his mouth to say more, but seemed to pull it back, squeezing his hand. "No cheering until after the judge makes her decision."

"I will reserve my cartwheels, but I can't promise no pompons." Stiles waved to Beaker and exited the rig. He had a few minutes, so he headed back to the van to peek in on Hunter. Finding him asleep in air-conditioned comfort, he checked the catalog and headed for ring fifteen.

To his surprise, he found the Argents there as well, and he smiled as he joined them. "Checking out the competition?"

"It's an all-breed show, so anyone could affect Hunter's chances at Best in Show. I've heard some buzz about Prada II." Chris nodded to the fluffy dog as Jackson got him ready for the ring.

"Don't forget Beaker, Dad." Allison smiled at Stiles. "Scott told me that she's been doing really well."

Stiles nodded. "It's true, but I think Beaker's going to be the one to beat today. This is the last Major she needs to finish her Championship."

"Scott told me that you're friends with her handler?"

"Scott, Derek and I all came up from Junior Showmanship together. Jackson too." Stiles nodded to he would now be called Derek's arch rival. "I used to show Irish Wolfhounds. My father's a judge now, and he still loves to do wolfhound specialties, but yeah. We're friends."

_And a whole lot more._

Victoria narrowed her eyes at the ring. "There's Beaker."

Stiles followed her gaze and saw Derek standing tall and proud in his dark jacket and slacks, Beaker resting on his arm as he waited and occasionally gave her coat a quick brush. Derek had always been a serious guy when he was showing, but this was a whole different Derek than the soft one he'd slept with, or the jagged-edged one he'd talked back from a panic attack. He wasn't there for an employer, either. He was there for himself, and his family and for little Beaker, and if that determined look was any indication, he was going to give it his all today.

He caught Jackson watching Derek, a little frown on his face, and he gave Prada II a few more strokes with the brush just as the judge called them in. _Good,_ Stiles thought. _You should be worried. He's gonna kick your ass._

Stiles clapped as the dogs and handlers paraded into the ring, all flowing coats and sprightly gaits under their show coats. He heard Allison giggle and smiled at her again. "They look like little pull toys, don't they?"

"They really do! I don't think I could own a little dog like that. I'd be afraid to break it."

Stiles chuckled. "They're tougher than they look, but I understand. Remember, wolfhound lover here, and Hunter is an amazing dog too."

"No promises, Allison." Chris smiled. "If Hunter's pups are show quality, Stiles can campaign them too."

Stiles smiled. "See? I'll be too busy with your dogs, but that's good. I think I'll end up adopting a rescue when I'm ready to hang up the show leash, or getting a retired show dog that's ready to retire with me, and Scott can be my veterinarian." He winked at her. "He can't stop talking about you, you know."

Victoria straightened, eyes narrowed. "Prada's up."

They all fell silent as Jackson lifted Prada onto the exam table. The judge went through her exam carefully as Jackson kept Prada busy with the bait. For all that Jackson was now Derek's arch rival, even Stiles had to admit that Prada was a gorgeous dog. He wondered if the Martins had begun showing Shih Tzus just to fill the gap left when the Hales' dogs died, and tried not to think too hard on that, especially if Jackson was the one handling them. Jackson gaited him down and back to enthusiastic applause from the Martins, who had gathered at the other corner of the ring to watch.

"He's good." Chris nodded towards Jackson but smiled at Stiles. "But he wasn't my first call."

Stiles smiled back, a little tightly. _He probably would have been your second, If I said no and if you thought you could pry him away from the Martins._

But then Derek and Beaker were up.

It was fascinating, seeing this calm, sharp-eyed Derek, Beaker's show lead over his shoulder as he kept her chin up. He held back a small smile as Beaker wagged her tail slightly for the judge's hands, and Stiles grinned to see it. When he gaited her, Stiles clapped for both of them, especially as Derek seemed to pull back and let Beaker have her little strut along the grassy ring. When she stopped and stacked, her head high and eyes bright, he couldn't help noticing that Victoria seemed even _more_ intent on Beaker than she had on Prada.

"We're going to go watch the collies," Chris said after the judge had moved on to the next Shih Tzu. "Text me who wins the breed here, and I'll see you for dinner."

"See you later." Stiles smiled at Allison, who waved to him as they walked away. He hoped that Scott could come to dinner too. If not, he'd send him Derek's way to keep him company. He looked back to the ring and caught Derek watching him while the judge examined the other dogs there. He smiled at him and mouthed 'Champion', flashing a thumbs-up as Derek tried not to roll his eyes. He let him go and watched the other dogs, and for a second he thought he caught Jackson watching him, but he quickly knelt to tend to his own dog while all of them waited for the judge to finish with the rest of the dogs there. Once she did, it was on, the handlers giving their dogs one last quick fluff and smooth before they stood back and waited.

The judge walked down the line slowly, looking at each motionless dog and handler. She walked past both Jackson and Derek, and Stiles saw Jackson's jaw working as she directed one of the other dogs to the front of the line. Derek watched, but kept his cool until she pointed to Jackson to take his place ahead of the other one. Stiles didn't see Jackson's face as he walked by Derek, but whatever he did made Derek's lips tighten as he took a deep breath. _It's not over yet, babe. Keep it together._

Easy for him to think that as his own heart was pounding for the suspense.

Finally, when it looked as though the judge was finished with the group, she pointed to Derek and Beaker, and then to the front of the line. Stiles broke into a grin and started clapping before she asked them all to gait, and he couldn't help the happy yell when the judge pointed to Beaker for Best of Breed.

The other handlers quickly surrounded Derek to clap him on the back or shake his hand. Jackson made a perfunctory approach, but stepped back to wait for the photos to be taken. Stiles waved to him as well, flashing him an OKAY sign and two thumbs up. _It's gotta be killing him to have to wait for Best of Opposite photos and know that his weekend's pretty much done._

Stiles smiled through it all. He'd heard what Jackson had said when Derek had tripped in his first show, and Jackson deserved every minute of this embarrassment and the Martins' outward smiles that didn't reach any of their eyes. He snapped a picture with his phone at Jackson's angry face. Maybe he'd put it on Instagram later. He sent it to Scott with "THE FACE OF A LOSER" as a caption, then sent a quick text to Chris Argent. _Beaker won Best of Breed, Prada Best of Opposite. See you for dinner._

Derek, on the other hand, stood proud with Beaker and her ribbon as the photographer snapped away. Stiles got a picture after Derek picked Beaker up and kissed her behind her topknot, and he was waiting at the entrance to the ring when Derek came out.

"Look at you two go! Congrats, man!" He clapped Derek on the shoulder and gave Beaker one of the liver treats he still had in his pocket. "Who's a good little Champion?"

"This champion is getting steak tips tonight," Derek said, and hadn't stopped smiling since the judge pointed at him and said _One!_ "What about you? You want some dinner?"

Stiles winced. "Sorry, I have dinner with the Argents tonight, but I can be around later for snacks and a late movie?"

"That sounds perfect. And then we both have the group judging tomorrow. Maybe dinner before we get on the road, okay? That is if one of us doesn't win Best in Show and have to eat dinner with their local contingent of the breed club."

Stiles opened the rig door for Derek to go back in and ached for even just a free day to spend with him, but he knew both their schedules were packed, and would be for a long while now that their dogs were finished Champions. They'd both be campaigning hard for more recognition, more wins and more shows leading up to Westminster so they would have the acclaim to really get the audience's favor and the judges' collective attention.

Derek turned back to look at him when he didn't answer, and Stiles could probably guess what he saw on his face because he moved in to kiss him, Beaker still tucked under his arm. "Hey. You okay?"

Stiles sighed and leaned into him, resting his forehead on his cheek. "Just already missing you is all. The next few months are going to be nuts."

"Let me...hang on." Derek got Beaker set up in her kennel with some extra water and a cool pad beneath her to help offset the warm day and her long coat. Stiles stepped back to let him; this was part of the relationship too, making sure they were both caring for their dogs. Once she was settled and Derek took off his jacket and tie, he pulled Stiles over to sit on the couch with him.

Stiles hugged him again, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and Derek held him tight. "I'm sorry," he said with a weak laugh. "I don't know why this is so weird today."

"It's different when it's Skyping and thinking it's just a weekend or two away from each other, isn't it?" Derek kissed the top of his head. "You're right, it's going to be busy from here on into February."

Stiles kissed Derek's neck and squeezed his arms around him. "You looked amazing out there today, you know that?" He sniffled and pulled back so Derek would see that he meant it. "And I know that you might not stay with this but...you're really, really good, and I've never seen you like that and it was awesome."

Derek leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet until Stiles forgot why he wanted to cry because this was so _nice_. "We'll see each other when we can. All-breeds like this."

"And for Christmas. Let's plan for that, okay? I want to spend the holidays with you."

Derek held Stiles' hand a little too tightly, and Stiles realized that this would be Derek's second Christmas without his family and a house full of dogs. He yanked Derek back into a hug and kissed just under his ear. "You're gonna spend it with me and Dad. I promise."

He was _not_ going to let Derek spend Christmas alone again if he could help it.

Derek squeezed back just as tightly, and ruffled his hair with a tear-hoarse "Thanks," then pulled back with a cough and a laugh. "Now why the fuck are either of us crying when we just finished our Champions? Where's the champagne?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major: (from AKC.org) "The American Kennel Club requires a dog to obtain a total of 15 points with two major wins (a major win is worth three points or higher) to become a champion. The majors must be won under different judges and at least one other judge must award some of the remaining points -- so you need to win under at least three different judges."
> 
> Best of Opposite: When a dog wins their class/breed, the dog of the opposite sex is awarded Best of Opposite


	9. The Big Show - Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Beaker arrive in Manhattan!

_February:_

Westminster was a _nightmare_.

First he had to leave the RV at a friend's in New Jersey and get a car service to the hotel. He had to stay at a hotel so everything was unfamiliar for both of them. Then he had to leave Beaker's grooming table and crate at the staging area and he hated leaving _anything_ he'd paid for somewhere he couldn't watch it himself. Finally, Westminster was one of the last 'benched' shows, so once the show started he couldn't even get a break until well into the evening, so he had to be ready for the long haul, and that was if Beaker _didn't_ win Best of Breed.

At least he'd had the sense to pack his pillow so at least there was SOMETHING to help him sleep. Beaker was actually taking all of it better than he was, which told him that he really needed to calm down before he got her just as uncomfortable. Once he'd let Beaker have her potty break in the Hotel Pennsylvania and gotten them both settled into their hotel room, he texted Stiles. _In room 524. It's a zoo here. Come up when you can?_

 _Hunter on treadmill. Come down and say hi._ Derek smiled and tucked his phone in his pocket. He put Beaker into her softer travel tent with a little scratch under her chin. "Back soon, sweetie. I'll tell Uncle Stiles you said hello."

He made sure he had his key card and wallet and headed for the elevator down to the lobby. He already hated the crowds, he already hated the cacophony of barking dogs and squealing children, and if he made it through these four days he wasn't sure he ever wanted to do it again, and they hadn't even gone into the ring yet.

Then the elevator door opened on the third floor and he found himself face to face with Jackson Whittemore, the beautiful Prada tucked under his arm. Derek stepped back so he could get in and waited for him to say something; the curl of his lip told him it wasn't long in coming.

"Everyone here might be crying over your Cinderella story, Hale, but they didn't see what I did when you first came back." He snorted. "You're out of your league here. There are top handlers here with top dogs. You're gonna get eaten alive and be lucky to walk out with your dignity."

Derek didn't say anything as the doors slid open, but Jackson had one more thing to say.

"Just do yourself a favor? Try not to embarrass yourself again like you did at your first show and maybe your parents' names won't get smeared with your screw-ups."

Derek clenched his jaw lightly when Jackson mentioned his parents, and he heard Jackson snort again as he left the elevator first. _Right. Now that's out of the way..._ He maneuvered his way through the throngs of people and dogs in the lobby and reached the exercise area without being stopped and threatened again, and he counted it as a win as he saw Stiles in the back corner, watching Hunter trot on a doggie treadmill. He approached without calling to him so as not to startle the dog even as he saw Hunter tracking his approach with his eyes. He felt in his pocket to make sure he had a bit of cheese for him when he was done exercising and smiled at Stiles. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Derek!" Stiles wrapped him in a quick hug and went back to watching Hunter. "He's on for another ten minutes and then I can hang out for a while. What do you think?" He gestured at the hotel and, ostensibly, Manhattan. "Excited? Or you already wish you'd stayed in Cali?"

Derek laughed and waggled his hand in a so-so gesture. "Little of Column A, little of Column B. You've been here before though. You must know all the ins and outs."

Stiles grinned at him. "My biggest concern for you is that you eat properly, so if you'll watch Hunter on day two while I get us food? I'll watch Beaker tomorrow. Here." He reached into his bag and handed him a granola bar. "Speaking of which, eat that. You need your energy."

Derek unwrapped the bar and took a bite. His growling stomach settled momentarily. "Saw Jackson on the way down here. He already told me I was out of my league."

Stiles snorted. "Good thing _you're_ not the one being exhibited. The only time Prada's won best of anything is when Beaker's not around. She's gonna kill it tomorrow."

"And Hunter hasn't been a slouch either. I've been keeping track." Derek smiled at the gorgeous dog. "He's been cutting a swath through the herding group at the all-breed shows _and_ killing it in Specialties. The buzz has both of our dogs as favorites to take it all."

"Favorites, huh? Do you think our relationship will survive if we end up as two of seven finalists and one of us takes the crown?" Stiles winked at him.

"Shower jets."

"I'm never leaving you."

Derek laughed and shook his head. "One day you're going to meet someone with a better bathroom and it'll be like you never even knew me."

"There he is!"

Derek and Stiles both turned to see an attractive woman with a microphone and a man with a camera behind her. She approached them both. "Mister Stilinski, right? And that's Hunter? Can we get a few shots of him on the treadmill?"

Derek stepped back to let Stiles talk to the reporter and looked around at the other dogs there. The treadmills were occupied by a beautiful Borzoi, a German Shepherd, and a Border Collie, and a woman with a cute fawn Pug led her dog to the potty area to 'hurry up!'. Even through the claustrophobic feel of everything and even in the face of Jackson's threat, he felt a little lick of excitement in his belly. He'd made it to the Big Show. Kermit had made it here once, but hadn't won the breed. He'd grown up with February being as big as Super Bowl Sunday in other people's homes, and as a Junior Handler his big dream was to end up here, crowds and indoor potties and everything. He could still hear Roger Caras' voice as he described every dog that gaited on the two biggest nights in American dogdom. Dogs barked in the lobby and excited tourists snapped picture after picture of the contestants as their owners checked in.

Though his first reaction had been dread, he could see the appeal in the pomp and circumstance. This kind of crowd was unheard of at the more local and even the bigger dog shows around the country, especially among non-dog people. He knew there would be celebrities in the stands tomorrow night as the Breed winners competed for the Group, some of them even co-owners of the dogs in the ring.

And if he won _anything_ at this show, it would be a feather in his cap and, if he wanted to, he could start the Hale lines anew with Beaker. That's what the show was about, right? To recognize the best of the best of the breeds so they could go on to breed healthier and better pups than the previous generation?

_College!_

Derek shook that thought away; it had no place here. That kind of talk could wait until Wednesday, when everything was over.

"Derek!"

He turned at Stiles' voice to see him beckoning him over and the reporter smiling. "Hi! Darlene Rodriguez of WNBC here in New York? I've been told it's your first time at Westminster, could you answer a few questions for us?"

The cameraman hefted the camera and turned on the light, already anticipating Derek's answer, so Derek smiled and nodded to her. "Sure."

"Okay, in three, two..." Darlene put on a winning smile and began. "So this is your first time to the big show! What do you think of everything so far?"

Derek looked around and smiled at her. "It's a lot to take in. I mean, you don't see this kind of crowd at the shows I'm used to, so I'm still getting used to all the people and close quarters."

"Everyone's here with high hopes for their dog to take home Best In Show! What do you think will help your dog reach the top of the heap?"

"Well, she's been doing really well this year, and we're both going to give it our best shot tomorrow. She's such a ham, I think the crowds will just make her shine."

Darlene laughed and nodded. "Well thanks so much for talking with us, and we wish you and your dog a great time here at the Garden."

The light on the camera went off, and Darlene was all business. "Can I get your name, and have you sign this consent form to air this interview?" "Sure, it's Derek Hale." He reached for the clipboard, form, and pen that the cameraman offered him. "Thanks for--"

Darlene's head snapped up. "Wait, Derek Hale? With the little...what's her breed. Beaker, right?"

"That's right, she's a Shih Tzu. Where did you need me to sign--"

"And you two know each other?" Darlene looked between him and Stiles, who was helping Hunter down from the treadmill. "Can we interview both of you in about an hour, if you two have time?"

Derek looked over at Stiles, then back at Darlene. "I guess, if it's all right with him."

"Are you kidding? An exclusive with the handlers of the two favorites _and_ you two are friends? It would be fantastic exposure for the both of you going into the night before the show. I'll get us a spot in the lobby for us. Just you two, no dogs." Darlene looked at them both as Stiles frowned a little.

"You know that this isn't some kind of throw-down rivalry, right? The interview is pretty much going to be a mutual admiration society party."

"This is a features piece, not war correspondence," Darlene said, her winning smile back. "We want to see good sportsmanship prevail here."

Derek looked at Stiles, fully prepared to make this his call; this was his first time here, and he hadn't remembered any kind of manufactured rivalries in previous pre-show newscasts. In the era of Team Peeta and Team Gale, however, who knew?

Stiles nodded. "All right. I can be back in an hour."

"Me too." Derek agreed.

"Fantastic! We'll see you in the lobby. Thanks again!" Darlene nodded to her cameraman and the two bustled off.

Derek watched her go. "I hope we know what we just agreed to."

Stiles shrugged. "It's good exposure for the Argents and for us. It'll be all right. What could they find out in an hour?"

Derek grinned. "Think I could find out the color of your underwear in an hour?"

"You need an hour to get my pants off? Did someone forget their glasses?"

Derek gave Hunter a piece of cheese. "I'll see you upstairs in a few?" "Count on it."

 

* * *

 

Stiles saw the reporter first. They'd agreed that it was best to arrive separately to the interview; if they were seen as a couple instead of friends before the show started, it wouldn't look good for either of them.

Despite their worries, Stiles smiled at the reason Derek had to stay behind. _Thanks, Stiles. Now I have to find a shirt with a high collar to cover up this goddamned hickey. At least I left yours in a spot nobody's going to look._

"Mister Stilinski!" Darlene waved from the area she'd staked out. Her cameraman had even set up a light on the bench where he presumed they would sit. "I figured you and Mr. Hale would both sit here. That way I can reach both of you with the microphone while we chat."

"That works for me, but I have a question too." When Darlene nodded, he continued. "That consent form I signed was for the previous interview, correct? I haven't signed anything about this one being used on the air or to promote your eleven o'clock spot, and I don't plan to until the interview is over."

Darlene's smile froze a little, but she nodded. "Of course. I can assure you that--"

"I just wanted to make sure we were clear." Stiles sat down on the bench and lifted his chin as he spotted Derek. "There he is now."

Derek had cleaned up, his hair a little damp and with some product in it. Stiles was glad that nobody else would ever feel how soft it was in their fingers. _Or between their thighs._

Darlene smiled and shook hands with Derek and ushered him to sit on the bench with Stiles. "All right, I'll count us in and then...well, I'm sure you've been interviewed before."

"Usually Beaker's the one that's the focus, but I think I can roll with it." Derek smiled, and Stiles wanted to both cheer for him and ask him what his secret was for appearing so comfortable with everything when he could barely keep still.

"Excellent! Okay, ready in three, two..." Her cameraman pointed at the three of them and they began. "This is Darlene Rodriguez coming to you from the Hotel Pennsylvania, which has become ground zero for the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show! I'm joined today by Derek Hale and 'Stiles' Stilinski, the handlers of two of the favorites this year. Stiles, you're handling Hunter, the Belgian Mal..."

"Malinois, and yes. Hunter's one of the three Belgian herding breeds." Stiles was at least glad to talk about Hunter instead of himself. "He just had a run on the treadmill earlier."

"That's right! Hard to get the kind of exercise he needs in the concrete jungle!" Darlene nodded to him. "This kind of urban environment is better suited for dogs like little Beaker the Shih Tzu! That's your dog, isn't it, Mr. Hale?"

Derek nodded to her. "It is, and some toys are pretty well suited for small space living, but it doesn't mean they don't enjoy long walks and trips to the park as often as they can."

"Now do either of your dogs get too stressed out by their show schedule? Driving from show to show and not really being in one place long enough to settle down? That has to be hard on a dog _and_ a handler." Darlene put the microphone to Stiles first.

"It's true, not every dog has the kind of energy that it takes to be a show dog. The breeders are pretty selective as to which dogs they think can handle it, and we as handlers make sure that they get time to relax and play and enjoy some down time between shows."

Derek chimed in as well. "I know that if Beaker had responded badly to the show experience, I wouldn't have continued, but she loves it. She has an energy in the ring that I don't see anywhere else."

"And that 'dogs first' attitude is definitely the one to have if you're going to get this far!" Darlene smiled. "Now let's talk about what got you here. You both did Junior Showmanship when you were younger, with your family's dogs, correct?"

"That's right. When I was young, we bred Irish Wolfhounds."

"And my family was all about Shih Tzus."

"And Stiles, your father still works with Wolfhounds, right? He's an AKC judge, isn't he?"

Stiles smiled, so glad to talk about his Dad. "He is. He's here tonight to cheer me and Hunter on."

"And how about you, Derek? Do you have anyone special in the stands for you tonight?"

Derek looked down, and Stiles wanted to snap at her for asking such a shitty question, but he stopped when he saw Derek smile again.

"Not in the stands, but my parents always wanted one of their dogs to get here, so I'm pretty sure they're watching from wherever they are. This one's for them."

Darlene didn't miss a beat. "I saw you two talking in the exercise area, and I've been told you two are friends. How will that work if you end up pitted against each other in the ring?"

Derek spoke up first. "Well, it all comes down to the dogs. They're judged against the perfect specimen of their breed, and how well we can bring that out in them."

Stiles nodded with a smile. "It's not like they can have a bad day and suddenly be shorter than they're supposed to."

"Of course! But if their handler has a bad day, sometimes it can make a difference, can't it?" She looked at Derek. "I had a chance to see the video from the Pacific Northwest show..."

Derek forced a chuckle. "Yeah, that was my Miss Congeniality moment. Not my best day. I do have anti-slip soles on my shoes now, and I've been taking dance classes so we won't get distracted again."

Darlene laughed with him. "Well we're all hoping that you can keep your feet under you tomorrow!" She turned to Stiles. "And Hunter had his own bad show early in his campaign too? I read that he'd been dismissed for a threatening move towards a judge?"

Stiles tightened his own smile. "He's a pretty young dog, so he was still getting used to strangers touching him. His owners and I worked really hard with him and now he knows that strangers coming near him means lots of his favorite cheese treats."

"Fantastic. And what will each of you do if your dog wins Best in Show this year?" She pointed the microphone at Derek first, and he smiled.

"Well, she's going to get lots of hugs and treats, that's for sure. After all the fuss dies down, I'm not sure. This was a journey for both of us getting here, and I really won't know where we're going until we get there."

"Interesting...Stiles? What about you?"

"Oh, I know his owners will be thrilled, but I know Hunter's a working dog as well as a show dog. He might go back to competing in Schutzhund and get titled there too." He grinned. "And probably become a father a few times."

"And that's what this is all about, right? That the best dogs will breed better puppies for new owners. Will Beaker take a break to be a mom after all this?"

Derek smiled and shook his head. "She's still only a year old, so she's not ready to breed, but once she is, that might be in her future." He looked sidelong at her with another grin. "Are you angling for pick of the litter?"

Darlene laughed. "You found me out! No, I think with my schedule I'll stick with my cats for a while, but I have your name if I'm ever in the market for a pretty girl like Beaker." She looked at both of them. "Thanks so much for your time, and good luck in the next couple of days! I'll be cheering for you both."

The light on the camera went off, and she shook both their hands. "Thanks, you two. I hope that was painless?" She looked at Stiles first, and he smiled.

"It was fine, thanks. I'll sign anything you need me to." The cameraman passed them both forms and clipboards, and they traded off with the pen as they signed the consent forms.

"Thanks again, and good luck! Maybe I'll get to interview one of you after Best in Show."

Derek nodded to her. "I'll watch for the interview tonight. Have a good evening."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Stiles nudged him. "Hey, my Dad wants us to have dinner with him tonight. You wanna?"

Derek put his hand on his stomach. "Can I get a rain check? I don't know how you kept _your_ cool during that interview, but I think I'm going to get room service and then chill for a while. Anything I have to eat tonight is going to haunt me later."

"How did I keep _my_ cool? How did you come up with dance classes after that shitty question about Pacific Northwest?"

Derek snorted. "I read the comments on the YouTube video a few days after it got posted. Nothing she said could top some of the things people said there."

Stiles laughed; he'd have to tell Derek that he might have been "BHLeashLaw", the angry user who had responded to nearly every single jeer and accusation on that YouTube video. "You want to do dinner tomorrow night maybe? I have to stay with Hunter tonight or he'll be too antsy to show." He smiled. "Maybe after tomorrow we won't have anything to worry about."

"Don't even _say_ that. I have to deal with Jackson and Prada trying to throw me off my game. I already know Hunter's going to win the breed and you do too."

Stiles wanted to hug him, but anything other than the greeting they'd had earlier today would be noticed. "Dad will be ringside for you at the piers tomorrow. You know he's cheering for both of us too."

"Awesome. Tell him I said hi, and I'm sorry I can't make it tonight. My treat for after the show, okay?"

"Sounds perfect. And we'll talk about what happens after that, right?"

Derek smiled, and Stiles just about melted at the warmth he saw in his eyes. "Count on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Benched Shows: Bench shows...require all of the dogs entered to stay on assigned benches the entire time of the show unless they are exhibiting (showing) or exercising (going potty) or being prepared to show (groomed). This is so fellow exhibitors, breeders and spectators can view and discuss the attributes and qualities of the dogs.
> 
> Westminster Kennel Club is a two day show. Dogs entered must be present for both days. They are allowed to leave at night but only with a deposit that is returned when the dog returns the next day. That way, spectators that come for the second day of the show have just as much of a chance of seeing all of the dogs entered. Benches are generally partitioned off stalls. They are marked for each individual dog with the breed and identification number of the dog.
> 
> (from http://westminsterkc.tripod.com/benched.html)


	10. Best of Breed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like it says on the tin - Day One of Westminster begins

Derek groaned as the room phone rang for the fourth time. "Hello?" He was getting less and less patient as the night wore on and the digital voice once again told him this was his wake-up call.

The phone had been ringing every forty-five minutes since nine. Beaker whined and shuffled up to sniff his fingers, and he petted her to calm them both down. He called the front desk, squinting at the clock through half-closed eyes.

"I am so sorry, sir. Those calls are automated through our computer system and we don't have anything to do with them."

_MotherFUCK._

"Then I am taking the phone off the hook for the rest of the night. Thank you." Derek hung up the phone, and then took it off the hook. After suffering through the incessant beep-beep-beep of the YOU LEFT THE PHONE OFF THE HOOK tone, he closed his eyes and smiled, ready for blissful sleep.

Then his cell phone started ringing, and he almost threw it through the window. UNKNOWN CALLER. "Hello?"

"Yo, is this Willie? I heard you can hook me up."

Derek took a deep breath. "You have the wrong number."

"Yeah, all right."

Derek hung up the phone and pressed his face into the pillow to scream as the phone rang again.

"Hey Willie! I heard you can hook me up."

Derek snarled and missed the days when you could slam the phone down on someone, and it rang _again_. This time he turned the phone off and at last slipped back to sleep as it vibrated in blessed silence.

He wasn't sure how long he was asleep before the thumping in the room above him started. It wasn't music, it wasn't foot traffic. It was just an arrhythmic thump-thump that seemed to happen every time he was ready to drift off to sleep. He squinted at the clock that read three forty-five and tried not to cry. At least Beaker could go to sleep pretty much anywhere, but he was ready to take a cab back to Jersey and sleep in the rig if it meant getting a peaceful night's rest.

Thump-thump. Thump-THUMP-thump.

It was as if someone was bouncing a basketball on the floor. If he got up to confront his noisy neighbor, he would stress Beaker out and he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. If he called the front desk, that meant putting the phone back on the hook for more wake-up calls.

Thump-THUMP-thump.

He scrunched down in the pillows and plopped one down on top of his head. It was warm, but at least the thumping was muffled enough that he could get back to sleep.

The alarm seemed to go off right after he closed his eyes. The clock said he'd slept for four hours, but he was dragging as he pulled on his pants and put down some potty pads for Beaker. She'd gotten used to using them when they were on the road, so he didn't worry about it as he petted her and kissed her face. "Shower time for me, baby, then a show breakfast and bath time for you."

He almost fell asleep under the warm spray of the shower, but by the time he got out he was a little more awake, Beaker had done her necessary business, and he was ready for some coffee. Out of curiosity, he checked his phone and found seventeen missed calls between the hours of four and six in the morning, and one text from Stiles. _Coffee?_

That one was from five minutes ago. _Beaker needs bath. Come up if you can while she dries. Otherwise see you at the piers._

It was rough on his knees getting her bathed, but soon she was in her glory under the blow dryer while he brushed her out and kept her silky coat from getting tangled. He heard the knock at the door and answered it, with a grateful smile as he saw Stiles brought coffee with him. "Bless you."

"Hey, it was the least I could--jesus, you look like shit. Are you okay?"

"Come on in." Once the door was shut, Derek pulled him in for a hug that Stiles returned with a tentative squeeze. "I'm all right, just slept like shit."

Stiles sat on the bed and hissed in sympathy. "Nervous?"

"I wish." He shook his head. "First the room phone had several wake-up calls scheduled. Then I think some drug dealer gave out the wrong number and everyone was calling _me_ looking to score." He glanced at the room phone still off the hook and stepped back to sip the coffee and finish brushing Beaker out. "And that didn't even include the basketball game upstairs when I finally just had to jam a pillow over my head." He stifled a jaw-cracking yawn. "What a night." He looked up at Stiles, who was frowning, eyes dark with anger. "What?"

"Someone's trying to fuck with you. Throw you off your game so you're not at your best today."

Derek snorted. "That can't...no. Sometimes stuff just happens."

"Not the night before Westminster it doesn't. If you win the Breed today, you're switching rooms with my Dad tonight. Got it? Drink your coffee."

Derek took another long sip, so glad that Stiles remembered how he liked his coffee, and went back to Beaker. "You're looking good, sweetie," he crooned to her. "I'm glad _you_ slept well."

She licked his fingers and he smiled. "Okay, baby. Time for topknot magic."

He saw Stiles scrolling through his phone with a frown. "Seriously, even if someone did, the night's over. I'm suitably caffeinated, Beaker's ready and raring to go. We're gonna do fine."

Stiles came over to him as he scooped Beaker up to do her top knot. He kissed him softly and squeezed his arm. "I just don't want to see your big day ruined by some asshole who doesn't deserve the ribbon."

Derek smiled and kissed him back, chuckling into the kiss as Beaker licked Stiles' chin. "We'll do fine today. So will you and Hunter."

Stiles tickled Beaker under the chin. "At least I don't have to carry a curling iron when I show Hunter. You work your top knot skills, and I'll have Dad stop and see you at benching. And remember, high collar today."

Derek laughed. "I'm going to look like a librarian out there in a turtleneck and it'll be all your fault."

"I'll get you some glasses so you can rock the sexy librarian look. Drink your coffee, and I left you a protein bar in that peanut butter flavor you like." Stiles winked at him, and he felt a warmth in his chest.

"Thanks for taking care of me." Derek squeezed his hand as they parted.

"Hey, you're worth it. I'll see you later." Stiles smiled and headed out.

Derek looked at Beaker and smiled. "I'm so gone for him, baby. I guess we'll sort that out after the show." He set her on the grooming table and plugged in the curling iron. "Gotta make you perfect today."

Thank goodness that the cabs were dog-friendly outside the hotel; by the time they both were ready they were nearly running late. As such, they just made it to their benching slot in time. He set Beaker up on her little show pillow on top of her crate and settled in to wait, keeping her coat silky with occasional brushes. This was his first benched show, and he couldn't help feeling a little overwhelmed with the press of people, both show folks and civilians.

"Oh, they're so cute!"

"How do you get their hair like that?"

"My grandmother has a Shih Tzu and she's prettier than her."

"Jesus, Derek, you look like shit."

Derek blinked through the blur and saw Jackson looking him up and down. "Hey, Jackson. Good luck today."

Jackson snorted, and curled his lip in a sneering smile. "You staying at the Hotel Pennsylvania? Place has great beds. I slept like a baby. Hope you had a good night too." He shot a look at Beaker. "Yeah, good luck."

He was gone before Derek really processed what he said, and Derek's eyes went wide. _Oh my god._ He got his own share of looks and comments at the specialties, and he remembered at least one woman petition her local kennel club to bar him and Beaker from competing because _It wasn't fair!_ But deliberately doing what Jackson just hinted at?

Was this the kind of thing that he could expect if he kept showing?

Then again, this was the biggest show of them all, and if this was the worst it was going to get, he could probably handle it. Derek still remembered some of the things that his parents had said about the shows, but they'd never talked to him about it except to encourage him to continue with Junior Showmanship.

_Let's just get through the next two days. Then we'll figure it out._

"And who's this pretty little girl?"

Beaker whined at the familiar voice and stood up on her pillow to stretch for the outstretched fingers. Derek smiled and reached for his hand. "Mister Stilinski. Good to see you."

"One more time, it's Noah. How you doing?" Derek moved with the gentle tug into the offered hug. "Stiles told me about last night. You doing all right?"

Derek sighed and shrugged when he drew back. "I'm all right, sir. I'll be fine. How's Stiles and Hunter?"

"They're doing fine. Hunter's getting lots of cheese today so he can handle the crowds." Noah smiled. "Stiles is getting lots of coffee today so _he_ can handle the crowds. I'll bring you both some lunch. You have to try some genuine New York pastrami."

Derek laughed. "That sounds perfect. Tell him I said good luck."

"He says the same. I'll be ringside for you. And you!" He said to Beaker, who wriggled and leaned forward to lick Noah's fingers. "No petting until after you've been in the ring, little lady." He chuckled and shook his head. "Still love the wolfhounds, but I can see the appeal. I'll see you both later."

"Thanks for stopping by. Enjoy the show."

He watched Noah fade into the crowd, and a few minutes later he heard the call to queue for the ring. "Here we go, baby. Let's knock 'em dead."

He strapped his number on and tucked Beaker under his arm, a slicker brush, steel comb, and liver snacks in his jacket pocket. He wove his way through the jostle of people with quickly voiced "Excuse me"s and made it to the ring in time to line up -- great -- behind Jackson. He took a deep breath and settled himself and set Beaker down with a last few brushes at her coat. She looked up at him, and he couldn't help smiling; they'd both do fine.

They paraded into the ring to applause and flashbulbs. There were twenty-five of them in the class, and he and Jackson were almost directly in the middle of them. He kept his head up and his eyes on his dog. Today was about Beaker and making her shine, and she did, keeping her head up and her gait so smooth it was like she was on wheels. _Good girl._

Even a glance at the other dogs and handlers (and their glances at him and Jackson) told him that this competition was pretty much between Beaker and Prada. Jackson knew it too, based on his repeated glances at him. He kept the sneers to himself in the ring, at least, and Prada stood perfectly on the exam table as the judge looked him over. When Jackson gaited him, the applause got even louder. One favorite down...and then they were up.

Derek smiled and steadied Beaker on the table as the judge looked her over. "Congratulations on getting to the big show," he said to both of them when he was done. "Down and back, please."

Derek lifted her down, smoothed her tail over her back, and stood tall as he gaited her down the line, and this time he thought the applause was even louder from the crowd. When he went back to the judge again he clucked his tongue to signal her, and she stood tall and still, her tail wagging just slightly until the judge waved him back to the line.

Showing her on the table was one thing. The waiting game was always another, and he knelt with her to keep her tail in a pretty plume and her beard straight and gorgeous while the other dogs were examined and gaited to more muted applause. He looked around at the crowd who came to watch, and spotted Stiles' dad who smiled and nodded in encouragement. He nodded to him and continued looking down the line, then stopped as he saw a familiar face.

Judge Daniel Blake, who had sent him that note that kept him on the path that brought him here, smiled at him and flashed him a thumbs up and an 'okay' sign. Derek smiled back at him, and knew then and there that, even if they didn't go any farther than this ring at Westminster, that he'd done the right thing not giving up. He busied himself with keeping Beaker upbeat, his smile never fading, until the judge was finished with the individual exams.

_This is it._

He tucked Beaker's lead between his teeth and gave her one last primp and comb as the judge moved slowly down the line. Liver bits and clucks of his tongue kept her up and bright-eyed when the judge paused. He pointed to Beaker and directed her to the 'inner circle' of selected dogs, and Derek moved up with a tighter smile. The other dogs would be in front of them, but still, any ribbon here at Westminster would mean a bright future for her, and they could always come back again.

The judge pulled Prada from the line, and Jackson nodded as if it was his due...until the judge directed him to stand _behind_ Beaker, and Derek's heart climbed into his throat. The judge pulled out three more dogs farther down the line, but the applause had already started to swell. Finally the judge waved them into motion again, and Derek barely heard the judge over the cheers as he indicated that he'd done it.

 _They_ had done it!

Derek pumped his fist and grinned as he was surrounded by well-wishers and congratulations. He shook all the hands and thanked everyone, and even endured the silent, pissed off hand squeeze from Jackson.

After that, it was a blur, standing for the photos with the judge, accepting the ribbon and the handshakes. "Good job, son. She's a heck of a dog."

"She really is," Derek said. "Thank you."

And then they could leave the ring, where he got a warm, back-patting hug from Stiles' father. "I already texted Stiles. You might have heard the shout from here. You both did fantastic out there."

"Go on. I know Stiles is in the ring with Hunter soon. Thanks for coming to cheer us on. Text me when he wins the breed."

Noah smiled and squeezed his arm. "You're gonna be great tonight. Both of you. I'll see you later."

Noah faded back into the crowd and then it was just Judge Blake there, smiling at him.

"I told you that little lady had a future," he said, and offered his hand. "Well done in there."

Derek smiled. "I kept my feet under me this time. Thank you for coming, sir. You, ah, you helped to get us both here, and I want to thank you for that too."

"I've been there, son. Remind me sometime to tell you about _my_ first years as a handler." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck out there. I'll be watching and saying 'I remember her when' to my kids when we watch tonight."

"Thanks again, sir. Maybe we'll see you at a show with one of Beaker's puppies in a few years."

Judge Blake laughed. "Just keep your feet, son. You're doing great."

Derek smiled and watched him head back into the crowd, then turned to go back to his benching area. He kissed her behind her topknot. "Look what you won, sweetie! And our day isn't over yet. I don't know about you, but I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight."

Beaker sniffed at the ribbon and licked at it once as they reached their benching cube to more applause. This time Derek put Beaker in her crate for a well-deserved drink and nap. He had just two hours before they could go back to the hotel and get ready for the Group tonight. "We're gonna be on television, sweetie. You ready?"

Beaker just lay her head down as Derek accepted more handshakes and well wishes from exhibitors and fans alike.

"Excuse me, Mister Hale?" A young woman smiled at him and offered him her card. "I'm Kira Nukimura, one of the Production Assistants at Good Morning America? Since you're a potential contender for Best In Show, I wanted to congratulate you and, if things go well for you tomorrow night, invite you to appear on the show. That card has my number, and we'll be in touch through the hotel if your dog wins. Can I tell the team that you'll join us?"

Derek nodded with another smile. "It would be an honor. Thank you."

"Fantastic! Congratulations on your win today, and good luck! Hope to see you on our couch in a couple of days."

Derek's phone buzzed and he held up his hand. "Hang on. I might have another person for you to congratulate." He checked his phone and saw the text. _Hunter is Best of Breed! Two winners in the family._

"You're going to want to see Stiles Stilinski over by the Herding dogs. He and his Malinois Hunter just won Best of Breed."

"Stilinski?"

"Yes. He should be in the catalog with Argent on the Hunt."

Kira smiled at him. "Thanks! And congrats again to you. Have a great night tonight."

Derek texted back to Stiles' father. _Woman from Good Morning America en route. Will have a show invite if Hunter wins BIS. Tell Stiles congrats from me._

Derek smiled at Beaker, who napped away the rest of her time at the show. He wished he could do the same, and hoped he'd even be able to eat once they got back to the hotel. He also hoped that he could get at least a few minutes with Stiles before they both went back into the ring.

"Congratulations."

Derek looked up to see a flash of red hair and a smile that didn't reach Lydia Martin's eyes. "Thank you. Congratulations to Prada too. He's a great dog."

"We'll see how much farther sentiment gets you, but just in case you make it past tonight, we'd like you to consider handling for us." She offered her card. "It seems our current handler just isn't making things happen for our dogs."

Derek shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to have my hands full with Beaker. She'll be ready to breed in a year if the health tests turn out well, and I'll have to find a good stud for her." He might not have kept the pressure up as Lydia's smile disappeared, but Jackson didn't have the money to hire the kind of harassment he'd faced the night before. "Maybe I can contact you if Prada makes the short list?"

Lydia snatched her card back as he reached for it and stalked back into the crowd. Derek watched her go and shook his head, but soon a loud whoop got everyone's attention, and he laughed as Stiles bounded through the crowd to leap into the hug.

"Holy shit, we did it!" Stiles said, and lifted him in a hug that squeezed out his breath. "We're going to the dance!"

Derek wanted to kiss him so badly. They'd get their chance at the hotel.

"You have to have dinner with me and Dad tonight. I know you haven't had anything but a protein bar and you need to be fed and hydrated." Stiles stepped back and grinned at him. "We did it."

"We sure did." Derek grinned with him. "Did Kira find you? I sent her your way when your Dad texted me."

"She did! She wasted precious minutes I could have spent getting here to congratulate you." Stiles squeezed his arms.

"You just missed Lydia Martin, by the way. She offered me a handling job. I guess Jackson didn't make it as far as they wanted Prada to go."

Stiles laughed. "Couldn't happen to a nicer guy, could it? Seriously, though. Dinner? Beaker's already bathed and groomed. You have no excuse to avoid steak and potatoes and I have to get back to Hunter before Dad feeds him too much cheese."

"All right, dinner, you blackmailer. Go take care of your dog."

"It's for your own good, you dork. I'll see you later." Stiles hugged him again, then bounded back into the crowd and back towards his benching area.

Derek watched him go with a grin, not even thinking about tonight when all he wanted was more of Stiles' honest smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I've reached the end of my NaNo-generated content! Please be patient with me as I now have to write and edit the thrilling conclusion :) Thanks so much for reading along so far!


End file.
